


Enchantress

by Falcolmreynolds



Category: Original Work
Genre: Backstory, Fantasy, Found Family, Gen, Magic, Spiders, believe it or not this is just backstory for a side character from another novel, effectively this is fanfiction for my own book, i guess??, nonbinary characters - Freeform, wild
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-29
Updated: 2019-09-29
Packaged: 2020-11-07 14:43:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 21
Words: 60,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20819033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Falcolmreynolds/pseuds/Falcolmreynolds
Summary: The story of the Spider Queen's rise to power.Song: "Enchantress" by Two Steps from Hell





	1. Wyrmwood

Part One: Origin

-

Under the boughs of the gnarled Wyrmwood trees, a clutch of eggs nestled in a mossy hollow.

They were light brown in color, blending into the deep brown wood and shadow. The thick canopy overhead kept all but the barest glimmer of sunlight off of them.

In the shadow of the forest, these eggs began to hatch.

Creeping out of those soft eggs came translucent brown spiderlings, stumbling over their own legs, delicately exploring the aging trees, the soft ferns and pillows of damp moss.

Several of these spiders glittered in the darkness, a soft dusted gold. One of the last-hatched was such, tiny legs a pale yellow-green, abdomen covered in silvery patches like mirrors that glinted in the low light. She looked around at this new world, this tiny golden spiderling, and found that it lacked something, but she did not know what. Something within the wood, and within her, hurt.

She could not speak the words she did not know she wanted to say, so she turned and scuttled into the undergrowth.

The Wyrmwood was a deep and verdant place, filled with life and death – plenty of things for the young spiders to hunt, and plenty that hunted them in return. Long-legged birds stalked through the undergrowth, catching small mammals to eat with their huge serrated beaks; panthers stepped velvet-soft along the crooked tree limbs, mirror-sheen eyes piercing the shadows in which the spiders sought refuge.

More than once the golden spiderling narrowly escaped danger by a hair’s breadth; once a panther’s claws nicked her abdomen as she skittered through an open clearing, once a snapping turtle nearly took one of her legs off as she crouched to seize a minnow from a still pond, once a wide-winged hawk brushed her with its talons as she hung spinning a haphazard web between two branches.

She, and her siblings, were too small to have much of a defense against anything that wished to harm them. But she did have an advantage over her unfortunate clutchmates; compensation, perhaps, for being visible in the gray-green-brown wood with her golden body.

A foraging mink came across her as she hunkered over her latest kill, a half-meter long lacewing. The mink’s lean body matched hers in size. It hissed at her; she hissed back, and it lunged at her, teeth bared, black slime glistening on its soft brown coat.

The golden spiderling drew herself up and refused the attack, and the mink bounced off a golden waver in the air: a shield, granted to her by her birth. She was a golden spiderling, after all, and thus the magic of the Wyrmwood was open to her.

The mink circled her and she turned to follow its movements. She could see the dark lines creeping into its eyes; it was crazed and half-blind, and she was rightfully frightened of it. It lunged at her again, and this time she did not shield – she dodged out of the way, then struck forwards with her fangs, raking them across the mink’s flank. It screamed and leaped to the side.

The golden spiderling shielded herself again. The mink saw this waver and gave up - it slunk away, nursing its wounds. The spiderling ate her kill and hurried off.

She did not know that her power was innate. She did not know that her siblings lacked it; and so she did not intervene when one of them was cornered by a hunting bird that struck and killed it with its sharp beak. She watched it shatter her clutchmate’s exoskeleton and was silent; why had he failed to protect himself? Could he not?

She watched a cat pounce on one and waited for it to shield, but it did not; the cat, glistening oil-like slime dripping from its claws, dragged her sibling off a branch and tore them apart.

They could not protect themselves. She realized that she was the only one who could – and as she did not know of the other golden spiderlings, did not know where they were or if they lived, she thought she was the only one who _ever_ could. A single golden spiderling, alone in the vast Wyrmwood, and the only spiderling who was not defenseless. She knew now her siblings could not stand against greater creatures; she, if she were able, would have to protect them from predators.

And not all predators were the same. The golden spiderling knew this; some were birds, some were cats, some were reptiles.

But there were ones that were different in a very specific way. Some of them felt like that hollow swelling she got when she touched a patch of withering mushrooms, or brushed past a plant whose leaves were wilting, veins black and filled with poison. They felt the same as that deep hungry feeling in her heart.

These were far more dangerous than the simple predators that hunted for food. These were creatures whose very touch corrupted; the stain of some deathly force ate at them from within, from below, from the magic of the Wyrmwood itself.

It did not affect the golden spiderling, or any of her siblings who shared her coloration and power, but the tainted beasts hunted for them specially – and her ordinary clutchmates were susceptible to this corruption, and thus, to betrayal.

She was forced to kill two of her brothers before she could speak. They attacked her on sight, fangs stained with black ichor, dark swirls creeping through their bodies beneath wounded carapaces. She fought them with magic, not wanting to touch their affected forms; it was dangerous, she surmised, to do so.

Sunlight was rare in the shadowed deep forest; so rare, in fact, that the golden spiderling did not understand what she saw when a fallen tree branch let a beam of gold spill down to the forest floor.

She stopped and stared at it. The light was beautiful, alluring, seeming to whisper to her. She crept closer until her front feet touched the edge of the patch of light – and drew back, startled. It was warm. But it was a kind warmth, bright and soft, and as she crept forwards into it she felt that deep hollow discomfort ease just a bit.

The light blinded her. She looked up to the source and could see nothing; but she had to know what cast such a strange and wonderful brilliance into her home. Was there something above the dark, rustling sky?

The only way up was the tree nearby, one of the tallest in the forest, though she did not know it at the time. She turned and began to climb.

She fought her way towards that radiance, through branches and vines and moss, past a sleeping hawk as quietly as she could and the limp form of a dead pine martin, stained black with corruption.

But she made it, and emerged through the canopy into a brilliant windy afternoon. When she clambered through the last few leaves she was struck by the realization that this was not the edge of the world above – this was just the tops of the trees, and beyond them, she could see a sky of flawless blue, too blue to look at and dotted with splotches of perfect white and gray. In the center of it all the sun blazed down, casting that brilliant light over the trees of the Wyrmwood – and oh, how she could see them now, laid out around her in a blanket of churning, wind-tossed green, swells that matched the forms of the land below! How she could see them gloriously green and colorful, alive with the breeze and the movements of creatures within! How they stretched for further than she could see in all directions – all directions save one: east.

East, she could see, went to the ocean. It was miles away but even from here she could see where the forest faded to grassland that in turn became cliffs that dropped into the sea.

And she could see, from this high point, the tendrils of darkness twisting through the Wyrmwood, tainting and killing the trees that they touched.

And she could see these tendrils spreading from the east, from the sea.

She thought.

That dark stain upon the land felt the same as the hollow feeling in her heart; it ate at her and drained her magic and her very being. It was wearying.

She looked up to the sun above, and back out to the forest. That darkness, she realized, was not of the Wyrmwood. It was not something her home simply had. That slick, sticky oil came _from _somewhere. It came from the east.

And in that moment, she knew the darkness as her enemy and she defied it.

Whatever it was – whatever _caused_ it – was hurting her, hurting her defenseless siblings, killing the creatures of the Wyrmwood and leaving nothing behind. Sickness and death and malady; that is what it was. She was small, but she had power. She could protect herself – could she not protect others as well? Protect more than just her siblings scurrying swiftly beneath the mossy canopy? Could she not try to reach a bit further, and protect perhaps a territory – perhaps part of the Wyrmwood, though she was but one small spider?

She could try. She had to try.

East, then, to fight the darkness. To fight its source. She regretfully left the light of the canopy behind and climbed back down into the forest. When she reached the forest floor, she turned in a circle, orienting herself.

And then she went east.


	2. Call for Help

She could hunt as she went. She had no set home. She was strong enough to fight off predators, and more importantly, strong enough to fight off the tainted beasts. They had hunted her and her siblings for months, even years. Now she would take the fight to its maker. Bold and brave, she journeyed east through the wood, skirting around the areas of greatest corruption.

It was on one such diversion that she ventured, very, _very_ close to the edge of the Wyrmwood – close enough to step into the grassland if she wanted.

She did not want to. The open spaces frightened her, with no place to hide or spin a web. She was almost defenseless when there was nothing to climb, and the stands of trees that dotted the landscape were few and far between. This land was not friendly to her.

But it was step out of the forest or walk through the shadow in the grassy gullies and cliffs at the forest’s edge, and she did not want to face enemies if she didn’t have to. So she took a deep breath and scuttled out of the undergrowth, into the tall plains grass. The wind over the prairie was swift and bore the faintest hint of the sea.

The spiderling stuck to rocks when she could, hugging boulders and mounds of ancient stone thrown together in some ancient cataclysm. The largest piles of boulders were the safest, as she could squeeze herself into the gaps in the rocks, but they also held the most danger.

As she set foot on the edge of one gargantuan heap of boulders, the largest she had yet seen by far, she heard the hiss of a snake.

Snakes were something she was familiar with. She’d met them in the Wyrmwood; some were small, small enough for her to eat, and others were large enough to wound her. None of them ever tried to eat her – she wasn’t the kind of thing they ate.

This was not a snake.

Slithering out from between the boulders was a serpent. Not an adder or a rattlesnake but a true serpent, strong enough to crush the spiderling with barely a thought, old enough to speak. She was the color of leaf litter and lichen, but she was wounded, and where the claw marks of some greater creature scarred her scales black slime oozed and glistened in the light.

The spiderling shielded herself as the serpent struck; the nose bounced off the golden waver and the serpent, blinded and enraged, surrounded her prey.

Fear. She felt fear, and she felt that dark hunger. This wasn’t the serpent’s fault. Ordinarily they would not tangle; but the corruption ran deep, and the serpent was driven to kill her.

The golden spiderling protected herself, but she knew her shield could only last so long. The serpent’s coils were stronger than her magic; she was only a spiderling, after all. Old enough to speak, but not to know what to say.

_Help me,_ she thought, and wondered, as the serpent encircled and squeezed her, if anyone could hear her. _Help. Help me! Please!_

For a moment, the serpent’s grip loosened. The spiderling renewed her shield, pushing outwards – perhaps she could wiggle free, given enough space…

No. The serpent, feeling this, coiled tighter. The spiderling could feel only wordless anger from her mind.

_Please. I’m in danger. I’m going to die._

She sent her words as far as she could, on waves of her magic. The serpent was not listening, but maybe, if she were lucky, someone else was.

The wind was cold now, but she couldn’t feel it – the serpent’s coils completely surrounded her tiny bubble. She could feel it failing. She pulled her legs in and made it smaller, to use less energy, to make it last longer.

_Help…_

The sound of the wind died away. There was a low hum, a deep thrumming that made the spiderling’s carapace vibrate, and the sound of tinkling metallic chimes, or chimes if they woke up and knew how to kill.

And hoofbeats.

The serpent very suddenly jerked back, as if struck and began to recoil – _away_ from the spiderling.

She kept her shield up and watched as the world appeared through what seemed like miles of snakeskin, and saw brilliant riders on swift steeds that barely touched the ground.

Someone heard me, she thought. They heard me and have come to help me.

The horses’ hooves were made of crystal, and she saw them strike at the serpent’s head. The serpent, startled and furious, reared back, and finally the golden spiderling had a chance to escape. She dropped her shield and bolted, going as far up the rocks as she could. She clung to the top and looked below; the riders made swift circling passes around the serpent and drove her back, hissing, into her lair.

She retreated and disappeared. One of the riders directed their horse and swept another rock off the pile, knocking it down to the serpent’s entry hole. She was trapped in there now, and while she would escape, she would not escape now.

Slowly, the riders calmed their mounts; the battle was over. The golden spiderling watched them sheathe glittering swords and bows and laugh to each other. They brought their mounts in a circle around the rocks and finally looked up to her. One of them stood up in his saddle and called, “Little spider, was it you who called for our aid?”

For a moment, the spiderling hardly believed he was speaking to her – nothing in the Wyrmwood save her siblings and a few other creatures had ever spoken. She gathered herself up and answered.

_Yes,_ she said, down to them. _It was me. Thank you for coming to help._

“We could not possibly leave such a plea unanswered,” the rider answered, tilting his head to the side with a smile. “And you were in such danger! But it’s safe now. You can come down. Though I am wondering… why are you so far from the center of the Wyrmwood, where your kind thrives?”

The golden spiderling began to pick her way carefully down the rocks. _I am on a journey_, she said, cautiously. _I am going to fight the maker of the darkness that comes from the east._

Silence followed her words. The riders looked at each other, unsure of how to answer. She saw disbelief on their faces.

All but the lead rider. He simply seemed curious. He opened his mouth, but another rider cut him off.

“You seem a bit small for such an important quest,” they said. “Who gave it to you?”

The lead rider glanced over, slightly irritated.

_No one. I took it for myself._ The spiderling paused. _I think, though, that I may be too weak for it. This serpent is not the maker, but she almost killed me._

The first rider urged his mount forwards a few steps. “Perhaps now, but what of the future? Come with us, for a time; I think there is someone you should meet. And you can recover your strength in our halls before continuing your journey, if you wish. You are on a noble path, and we will aid you.”

The second rider looked over, startled. “Emhlys, what – “

The lead rider held up a hand, and the other rider stopped.

The spiderling debated.

These strangers were kind, and they had helped her. And she _was_ tired, her magic drained by the serpent’s attack. Perhaps it would be a good idea, before she continued, to go with them.

_Alright_, she said, now perched atop a rock level with the lead rider’s eyes. _I will come with you. But where are we going?_

“To the court of my mother the Queen,” the rider said, smiling. “It is a safe place. Hidden and whole.”

The spiderling did not know what a queen was, or a prince, but she understood that this rider was someone of great importance. He picked her up and held her in one arm as the glimmering horses went galloping across the grasslands, heading north. She looked back once at the receding forest as the rider carried her away from the only home she had ever known.

The bright steeds seemed to pass over the grass like wind as they ran; the land whipped by underneath while they ran in slow motion, statues over a turning world.

But at last they turned westward, so far north that the plains gave way to mountains, and the golden spiderling saw finally that they were riding towards a tall golden forest. The trees were massive, thick around as five of the riders’ steeds end to end, and straight and tall with distant glittering canopies. It was a forest very different from the Wyrmwood, prouder and younger and more distant. There was no wall or tower surrounding the Wood, but she could feel the boundary of its power, like water washing up against a shoreline.

“This is the Golden Wood,” the prince whispered to the spiderling, as they grew closer to it. “It is a stolen place from another world. None like it exist naturally, here, and it is like as not that none ever will.”

They entered the Golden Wood through a tall archway of interwoven branches, and as soon as they crossed the threshold, the golden spiderling felt the ache in her soul recede until it was barely there. In its place came an upwelling of bright power so strong she started where she was in the prince’s arms.

He glanced down, grinning. “Surprised?” he asked, and then laughed aloud, because the spiderling could not even bring herself to speak.

The ache, that draining pain, was still there. But somehow, in this place, it was less.

There was no darkness here, no sticky corruption in the trees or creatures she saw. It was free.

The riders progressed, walking slowly now, through the Wood. “So,” the prince began, “I am called Emhlys. My mother, Círdnanh, is the Queen of the Willow Court. This is our realm, taken from our home when it was overrun, and we will return there when it is time to go. But we live in this world for now; lucky for you.” He paused. “Do you have a name?”

The spiderling considered this. _No,_ she finally said. _I don’t. I don’t think I ever have._

“That’s alright. Some would say it’s better _not_ to have a name than it is to have one.” Emhlys rolled his eyes. “Those people are philosophers, and think too much.”

“Those people,” retorted the rider on Emhlys’ left, “are smarter than you.”

“Oh! He speaks!” Emhlys glanced over at the rider. “Sedh speaks!”

Sedh rolled his eyes. “You are a fool,” he said, shaking his head. “What do you think you’re going to do with a spider?”

“She’s not a _pet_,” Emhlys said instantly, humor fading. “I want to introduce her to my mother.”

The spiderling remained silent.

“So she can… do what? Fight the Blue Empress herself?” Sedh laughed shortly, a harsh and humorless sound. “Let me know how that plays out.”

_The Blue Empress?_ the spiderling asked, curious. _Who is that?_

The riders went silent. All of them looked to Emhlys.

“I should let the Queen explain,” he murmured. “It’s only safe to speak of Her in some place where we are shielded from Her spies. Even within the Golden Wood, it’s not safe. Within the Court we will be out of reach, but until then, I cannot say anything. And neither,” he added, shooting a glance to Sedh, “should anyone else.”


	3. Queen of the Willow Court

They walked in silence. Leaves occasionally fluttered down, wide golden leaves with many lobes, and fell to the forest floor where they lay gleaming in the sun. The golden spiderling was astonished at how bright this forest was – it was just as alive as the Wyrmwood, but it was different. The sun reigned supreme here.

Sedh remained silent, but the golden spiderling saw that he kept looking over at her. Why? She knew that this was odd, for her to be here, but she didn’t understand why.

The riders kept going. As they went, the uneven forest floor began to flatten out. The horses’ hoofbeats were soft thumps on the fallen leaves, singing with the echoes of crystalline tones.

They went along a golden path through the wood, a winding trail that the golden spiderling could barely make out amongst the leaf litter. She stayed silent – she did not ask where they were going.

She found out soon enough. “So we come to the city of the Willow Court,” Emhlys murmured to her. “The River Palace – my home, and the last safe place in Sylvach.”

The path turned; they rounded the bend and the golden spiderling saw a magnificent palace of gray-silver wood, grown from the banks of a swift river. The columns of smooth wood split into twining branches that formed a roof; the golden spiderling saw more the longer she looked. Further back sections of the palace were built with smooth gray and white stone in addition to the trees; she could see spiraling staircases twisting through the construction.

And, leaning out on balcony rails, walking through the halls, there were fae. She could see them gathering at windows and open walls to watch the riders return.

_Who are all these beings?_ she asked Emhlys, slightly frightened of them.

“My people,” Emhlys told her. “Don’t be afraid.”

_Why are they watching us?_ Was it because of her?

“They’re simply here to welcome us back home, but they’re certainly intrigued by your appearance; like I mentioned before, it’s rare to see your kind anywhere but the heart of the Wyrmwood, and rarer still to find one who speaks and uses magic like yourself.”

The riders stepped over a smooth silver bridge, wood and stone, and into the River Palace. They made their way to an inner courtyard and there dismounted.

The golden spiderling clung to the horse’s neck, unsure of what to do. Emhlys turned to her and held out his arms.

“Come,” he said. “I’ll take you to my mother.”

The golden spiderling carefully stepped onto Emhlys’ hands, and he turned and carried her into the hallways of the palace.

As they passed, other fae bowed to Emhlys and murmured quiet greetings. They also stared at the golden spiderling, most of mildly confused.

After a few minutes, they came to an antechamber. Emhlys waited while two armored fae opened the doors for him and stepped back; Emhlys strode in.

It was a great hall, floor an even hatch-work of roots through which a diversion of the river could be seen flowing beneath the Palace itself.

At the end of the throne room – because that is what it was – was the Queen, seated upon a living throne of silver wood and golden leaves. Ivy twined around its legs and arms, sprouting tiny white flowers that sparkled like stars.

The Queen resembled her son – she had the same smooth dark skin and flat nose, the same silvery hair partially pulled back in a series of intricate braids, the same shimmering dark brown eyes. She was sitting with one leg over the other, leaning on one arm of the throne, draped in soft dusty blue cloth. Carefully settled on her brow was a crown, an intricate twist of deep coppery metal that bloomed into flowers and stretched into antlers that arced up behind her head and cast shadows on the back of her throne.

“Emhlys my son,” she began, and her voice echoed like music in the hall. “What have you brought to me today?”

“A friend, Círdnanh Queen,” Emhlys answered. “My scouts and I heard her calling for help at the Serpent’s Rocks. The Lady there had encircled her, but we drove her off.”

“And why have you brought this spiderling here, into the Wood, to my Palace?”

“I offered her safety and strength,” Emhlys said. “She accepted, for she has a great task to accomplish.”

The Queen tilted her head to the side, raising one eyebrow. “And what would that be?”

Emhlys glanced down at the golden spiderling. “That, I believe, is not mine to reveal. Go on.”

So it was up to her. _I come from the Wyrmwood,_ she began, nervously. The fae gathered in the hall were watching her curiously. _In there, my home, a darkness harms everything it touches. It has seeped into the soil and the plants, and it has seeped into the magic of the Wyrmwood itself. I will not stand for it. I am going east to fight the darkness, whatever it may be._

A series of startled, hushed whispers ran around the room as the fae murmured amongst themselves. The Queen sat back in her throne and looked up to Emhlys.

“I see why you brought her here,” she said. “Little weaver, do you know what it is you fight? The maker of this shadow on the land?”

_No._ The spiderling felt a tremble in her limbs; she fought to steady herself. _I do not. But I will fight it regardless._

The Queen rose. She stepped down off the dais and strode over to Emhlys, focus on the spiderling. “You seek to contend with that which has drained this realm of power for years,” she said, coming to a halt in front of her son. “The Blue Empress.”

_Who is the Blue Empress?_

“She lives in a city in the sea,” the Queen explained. “She is the ruler of this realm and everything in it. Nothing here can challenge her. Not even us, for we do not come from this realm, and it would not support us. Nothing here is strong enough or has such connection to the land. We are not of it. But…”

_I am._ The golden spiderling didn’t know what the Queen meant when she spoke of realms, but she knew that this was her home, her place. _I can challenge her._

Silence from the Queen, and amused whispers from the court. But the Queen looked thoughtful.

“I believe,” she said, after a long moment, “that you may.”

Absolute silence now. The Queen held out her hands to the spiderling, and she carefully stepped from Emhlys to Círdnanh. The Queen’s hands were warm, and still, holding her as safely as any tree branch would.

“You are strong,” the Queen told her. “I will teach you as much as I can. This realm needs someone to remove the Blue Empress from power. It needs someone to free it. Your connection to the magic of this realm is powerful; you were able to call my son and defend yourself against a Lady of the Land. Someday, you could challenge the Blue Empress. I will teach you how to fight if you desire it; I will take you as my own daughter.”

_I… I accept,_ the spiderling said, scrambling for the words. _I will not fail._

“Then you are thus a Princess of this land,” the Queen said, smiling. Emhlys beamed. “And my subjects will refer to you as such.”

The golden princess bowed as best as she could, pressing her belly to the Queen’s hands as she stood precariously on her outstretched fingers, and Círdnanh laughed and shook her head.

“Little weaver, there is no need for that. You bow to no one now.” She kissed the golden spiderling on her thorax and the assembled fae knelt, dipping their heads. All but Emhlys, who simply stood there and smiled.

When the fae stood, the Queen handed the spiderling back to her son. “Go, now,” she told them. “I will seek you out when I am finished attending to the day’s tasks.”

Emhlys nodded, then turned and swept out the main door. “I’ll show you the Palace,” he said eagerly to the spiderling. “You know it will take you quite a while to become strong enough to fight the Empress, right?”

_How long?_

Emhlys considered this. “It could be years,” he said. “Honestly, I don’t know. There are those that have tried to combat her before, but…”

He trailed off. The spiderling caught worry and sorrow from him. _What happened to them?_

“Oh, she killed them, obviously,” he answered breezily. “That’s not the concerning part. The concerning part is that we don’t know what she did with them after that. Some say she ate them; some say she sacrificed them to the sea. We don’t know.”

_Tell me about her._ The spiderling wanted to know as much as possible about her foe.

“I’ll tell you what I can,” Emhlys began, rounding a corner and starting up a broad, shallow spiraling staircase. “She’s ruled for hundreds of years. We don’t know how she came to power, but she won’t give it up. She both… it seems to us, because we are outsiders and we can see how this realm works, that she both protects the realm and drains it. Why she drains it we don’t know – perhaps she simply wants the power. She certainly has enough to rule; I don’t know why she would want more. But then again, people do all sorts of things to get what they don’t need.”

They reached the top of the staircase and went down a long, sun-drenched hallway. The golden spiderling saw a group of small yellow birds go zipping through, into the courtyard below. “This leads the glade where my mother and I rest,” Emhlys explained, as they went. “It’s one of the many ways to get there, but I think this is one of the prettiest. The only one more beautiful is behind the throne room and along the river, but we left out the main door and it would have looked strange to walk back through the room after we’d left.”

The golden princess shifted slightly. From what she’d gathered, people were very friendly with each other here. She’d listened to Sedh speak to Emhlys; she tried to recall the jovial, easy nature of their interaction. _That stopped you?_ she tried.

Emhlys rolled his eyes. “I didn’t _want_ to look strange.”

_I think it may be too late for that._

“You’ve got quite… well, I was going to say you’ve got a sharp tongue, but you don’t have a tongue. You’ve got wit, and you don’t seem to be afraid to use it.” Rather than offended, Emhlys seemed amused by her jibe.

The hallway met with the slope of the hill, and they emerged into a tree-ringed courtyard. Through the thick trunks the spiderling could see two separate rooms, both furnished, and two empty rooms. Emhlys paused and pointed. “That one on the left is my mother’s, and the one on the right is mine. I think you get one of the empty ones.”

The spiderling thought for a moment. _What is it for?_ she asked.

“You sleep there. It’s safe and filled with your possessions.”

_I don’t have any…_ should she have?

“Well, that’s alright. I wouldn’t worry about it.”

_Is it… can I spin here?_

It took Emhlys a confused moment to realize what she was asking. “Wh – oh! Of course. It’s your space.”

The golden spiderling chose the room next to Emhlys’. It was empty at the moment, just a clearing with a stone floor, filled with fallen leaves and a few ferns poking up around the edges. It was shaded and pleasantly cool, and she wanted to explore it.

Emhlys put her down and she stepped carefully into the center of the chamber and looked around. The trees were tall and straight, so different from the Wyrmwood’s gnarled jungle. But she could probably spin a web here just the same.

_When do I get to learn more magic?_ she asked, turning back to Emhlys.

“Very soon,” he promised. “My mother will teach you. I can’t do it; I’m not much of a sorcerer.” He shrugged and touched the shimmering sword that hung at his side. “My strengths lie in… other areas.”

_You fight._

“That I do.”

He showed her the rest of the River Palace; a broad, sprawling expanse of loosely connected buildings and open, forested areas. There was a watchtower where the river diversion split to run beneath the Great Hall, and an entire city of people living beyond the border of the river. The Palace climbed its way up the hill, growing bigger over time. There were thousands of fae here and every one of them seemed to have been notified of the Queen’s new daughter’s status. Whenever they passed by, they would incline their heads to Emhlys, murmuring “Prince” to him, but now they also looked to her. “Princess,” they said, with soft smiles and careful, curious eyes.

The golden princess did not want to be carried by Emhlys constantly; instead she walked alongside him, eight legs working furiously to keep up with his long strides. She could easily scale the stone and wooden walls whenever she wanted to see out over an area, and over the afternoon she got a fairly good idea of what the Palace was like.

The Queen herself found them that evening, as the golden spiderling was sitting at the top of the hill watching the sunset. She had never seen a sunset before; dusk in the Wyrmwood had simply meant the darkness grew deeper and the air became cold. There had been no smearing of color in the western sky, no dying rays of red light lancing through the growing dark to gleam on the tree trunks.

“Emhlys, and my daughter,” Círdnanh called, entering the courtyard. Emhlys was watching the golden spiderling with amusement; he was used to sunsets, and to see someone so astonished by them was a rare occasion.

The spiderling tore her gaze away from the west and looked over to Círdnanh. _Hello,_ she began, uncertain of how to address the Queen.

“Busy today, Mother?” Emhlys asked, glancing over to her.

“Not terribly, but I feel that my days are going to be far busier soon enough. You certainly have forced a change in fate,” she replied, smiling. “Tell me again where you found her.”

“Battling the Lady of the Serpent’s Rocks,” Emhlys replied without hesitation.

“Why? What cause would the Lady have to do battle?”

_She attacked me,_ the spiderling said, speaking up. _But it wasn’t her fault. It’s the shadow in her; she was wounded by something and it stained her._

“Corruption powerful enough to consume one of the Lords of the Land,” Círdnanh murmured, frowning. “We have known it to be deadly, and we have known it to be insidious, but that it should claim one so strong is sour news indeed.”

_Don’t hurt her,_ the spiderling said, surprising herself. _She doesn’t deserve it. She is hurt enough. I don’t know if she can be healed, but please, don’t hurt her._

“Goodness,” Círdnanh said, looking down to the spiderling. “Don’t worry, little weaver; I understand. We will not. It would be a bold and terrible thing to do; the Lady holds power, though I do not know if she still does when this darkness is in her.” She paused, then tilted her head to the side. “How did you escape it?”

_The serpent?_

“The darkness.”

_It never hurt me,_ the golden spiderling said, and paused. _Its creatures did – the beasts of the Wyrmwood, sometimes, would attack me – but the corruption itself could not stain me. I do not know why. The dark beasts even sought me out, and those of my siblings who were like me, but we were never pulled into the shadow. My other siblings… they turned on me in the past. They are weak to it and I cannot protect them all._

Círdnanh absorbed all of this, thinking. “Others like you?” she said, after a moment.

_Colored like me. Gold._

“There are more.”

_No,_ the golden spiderling said, swaying gently back and forth to shake her head like she had seen the fae do. _No, I do not think so. I think they were killed. We are small and weak, and very few survive to be more than prey. The Wyrmwood is too dangerous. The dark beasts hunted us above all else. They are no more._

Círdnanh sat down on the ground next to her, staring into the forest in thought. The sun sank lower, casting its ruby glow into the canopy. “They possessed the same magic you do?”

_They… _The spiderling struggled with her words for a moment. _Yes and no,_ she finally managed. _It wasn’t the same. They were small. I am small. Their magic was small. Mine is… not._

“Hmmm.” The Queen paused for a moment, then glanced over. “How much magic do you know, little weaver? What can you do?”

_I am not sure. I can speak, I can shield, and I can sting…_

“That’s a start.” Círdnanh laughed. “If you called Emhlys to you, you must have considerable talent. Shield.”

The golden spiderling did so without question, bringing up a dome of wavery gold in the air around her. It shimmered faintly, almost letting off light in the falling dusk. Círdnanh looked over it critically and nodded.

“Emhlys, strike the shield. Gently.”

Emhlys, apprehensive, drew his sword and tapped it against the shield. It held; he put more force into it. It held.

“Strike it,” Círdnanh ordered.

Emhlys raised his sword, then lowered it, shaking his head. “It’s too dangerous,” he insisted, looking over at his mother. “She hasn’t rested yet, and she was quite exhausted by the Lady at the Rocks – “

_I can defend myself,_ the golden princess snapped. _Test me._

Círdnanh looked back at Emhlys, eyebrows raised. “There is your concern allayed,” she said.

This place was filled with a bright energy that felt like sunlight and joy. It surged in the spiderling, now, but she held it at bay. She’d felt it all day, ever since she’d entered the Golden Wood; power that wasn’t hers, but that she could use.

Emhlys glanced down at her, worried. “Are you sure?” he asked.

_Yes._

He looked back up to Círdnanh, and without further ado raised the sword and brought it down in a two-handed strike on the spiderling’s shield.

It held, and she pointed her legs forward and let loose the stored energy at that moment. The sword impacted her shield and a bright burst of gold exploded from the point of contact. It knocked Emhlys backwards; he was so startled, as he stumbled backwards into a tree and fell to the ground, that he lost his grip on his sword. It clattered to the stone below and skidded away. He himself lay flat on his back for a moment, staring upwards.

_…are you alright?_ the golden spiderling asked after a moment, dropping her shield. She crept tentatively over to him.

Emhlys sat up and shook his head to clear it, then looked to her. “_What_ was _that?_” he asked, baffled.

_This place is filled with magic,_ the golden spiderling said, almost ashamed. _It… wanted to be used._

“Fascinating,” Círdnanh murmured, leaning forward. Her narrowed eyes gazed into the spiderling’s black ones; she seemed to be rifling through the spiderling’s mind, reading her thoughts. “This land’s magic augments your own. I have known that this is possible, but not with myself or my kin; we cannot touch this land’s wellspring.”

_And I can?_ The spiderling stepped back as Emhlys pulled himself up and cast around for his sword, squinting in the twilight.

“So it would seem,” Círdnanh murmured, also pushing herself off the ground and standing. She brushed a fragment of dried leaf off of her robes. “Better, I think, for your goals. And that reminds me: Do you have a name?”

_No._

Emhlys glanced over at his mother, raising his eyebrows. Círdnanh nodded slowly. “I could give you one,” she said, “but I think perhaps it is better for you not to have one.”

“Why?” Emhlys said instantly, almost aggressively. He slid his sword back into its sheathe, but his movements were tense. “Everyone should get to have a name. Everyone.”

Círdnanh raised one hand gently and held it out, calming him. “The Blue Empress lacks a name known aside from her title. To truly have no name is to be equal with her anonymity; neither of you can Name the other.”

_So…_ she paused. _So I should never have a name? I will never have a name?_

“Unless you choose to take one.”

The golden spiderling paused. Emhlys, Círdnanh, Sedh… These meant something. They were the people they sounded like.

But the darkness had to be destroyed.

She wanted a name. She did; she wanted to have something that others could say to mean _her_, to embody everything about her in one word. It would feel right, and it would feel better still to hear her new family say that name. To have them be able to speak with her and call her by a word that was her.

But the darkness had to be destroyed. She had to fight the Blue Empress.

_No,_ she said, and it hurt. _I will not take a name. I will be better for it; better to fight her._

“A title, then, will suffice.” Círdnanh smiled gently at her, and the golden spiderling got the idea that somehow, Círdnanh knew how much it pained her to give up a name she had never even had. “Perhaps the Honeysuckle Princess?”

It wasn’t a name, but it was something. The princess felt the pain of wanting ease away just a bit.

Her decision was made.


	4. Honeysuckle Princess

Her power was greater here than it had ever been in the Wyrmwood, but she realized soon that it was greater than she had ever known. The magic she used to shield was only the tiniest drip of the well she had within her.

She learned to differentiate between the power of the Golden Wood and the power of Sylvach – which was her realm, as she learned. There were other realms, beyond Sylvach, some of which she learned the names of – Asarla, Llirith, Centuriax, Illia, Earth, Windward, Bynn, Venir, Fulrylch – but Sylvach was hers. And its magic ran deep.

It was hard to reach within Sylvach to pull its magic out, and it was slow to respond to her, but respond it did. She just had to make sure she didn’t take anything touched by the shadows of the Empress, for though the darkness wouldn’t affect her, there was a chance that it could hurt those she was trying to protect.

She grew quickly. Very soon she passed the size at which she had seen any of her kind reach; she supposed it was because she was safe, out of immediate danger, and able to have as much as she wanted to eat.

That meant she swiftly became too large for Emhlys or Círdnanh to easily carry her, and then too large to be carried at all or ride on their horses with them.

“What do you suppose,” Emhlys asked one afternoon, as he took a break from sword training to sit at the edge of the sandy training area and have a drink of water, “you will do when you are as large as a horse?”

_I’ll run alongside you when you scout,_ the princess replied. _I can go fast enough._

“Can you now?”

_I can._

“I don’t quite believe you,” Emhlys said, grinning. “I’ll race you on Spire.”

Spire was Emhlys’ mount, a beautiful roan horse. The golden princess raised herself up on her toes and shook her body a bit. _I accept,_ she said. _Prepare to lose._

“I shan’t, because I’ll win.”

_What kind of course do you want to race on? I’ll win no matter what, but I’ll give you the option to choose. As a consolation prize._

Emhlys narrowed his eyes. “There will be jumps,” he said. “And sharp turns. I’d like to see you manage those.”

_I’ll do just fine._

“You’re really serious, huh.”

_Of course I am._ The golden princess was absolutely confident. _I promise you that I can beat you._

“Well. Alright then.” Emhlys grinned at her. “Tomorrow. We’ll race through the forest outside the Palace. I’ll have someone draw the course tonight.”

_Acceptable._

She didn’t look it over. She didn’t need to. Emhlys brought Spire to the top of the hill and prepared himself as she stood next to him; but when they raced, she simply scaled the nearest tree and made a beeline for the finish through the canopy.

She was waiting for Emhlys at the bottom of the hill. “That’s not fair!” he exclaimed, as he brought Spire to a halt. “That isn’t fair, you didn’t even use the course.”

_Nobody said I had to. I just had to cross the finish line first._ The golden princess was sitting smugly in a cocoon of a few threads of golden silk she had spun while waiting for Emhlys to show up.

“Oh, you… !” Emhlys shook his fist at her while Spire, panting, trotted to a halt and tossed his head. “I should have known you would pull something. You were _far_ too confident to not have something up your sleeve.”

_I don’t have sleeves, Em._

“You know _full well_ what I meant,” he sighed, rolling his eyes.

_I did. You can probably outrun me on flat ground._

“Most likely.”

_You can win on a flat ground race if you want,_ the princess offered, slipping out of the hammock and stepping over to him. She was large enough that she could stand up on her toes and see over his horse’s back. _You’re probably much faster than me on flat ground. At least… for now. If I get bigger, I may be able to win even then._

“Oh, you’ll outdo me at every turn!”

_You can still hold things, which I cannot. You have hands. That is an advantage I will never be able to combat._

This was false, because Círdnanh taught her how to use her magic to manipulate objects.

“It’s not that you_ lied_ to me,” Emhlys said, leaning against a tree column as he watched her move several heavy stone spheres around in the air. “It’s that you didn’t _realize_ it was a lie.”

_I didn’t lie to you,_ the golden princess said patiently, arranging them in a triangle in the air. Círdnanh, standing nearby, was guiding her gently, a soft feather-light presence in her mind. _I couldn’t then. But I can now._

Emhlys grinned, rolling his eyes. “I can’t even _do_ that,” he said. “Ah, you’re a better fae than I am.”

The golden princess stacked the three spheres on top of each other, still holding them up. _But I am not a fae, dear brother._

He sighed, tipping his head back to rest against the column. “I know, I know,” he said. “Someday, perhaps, you will lead the fae instead of I.”

_That is not my fate._

“But if it were, it wouldn’t be so bad. I’d be free to keep roaming the countryside in search of other young creatures in mortal danger.”

_Bored of me already?_ The princess spun the spheres in a slowly rotating circle above her head, eyes fixed on them. _I cannot believe this. How could you. Be bored of me already. You’re already seeking a replacement for me. I trusted you, and so on, and so forth._

“Oh no, it was supposed to be a secret,” Emhlys replied, with an equal amount of sincerity. “What-ever shall I do now.”

The golden princess lowered the spheres and sent them in Emhlys’ direction, slowly. He waited until they were near him and reached up, giving one of them a curious spin; it wobbled in the air. The golden princess waited patiently while he messed with them. Círdnanh, at the side of the chamber, stepped back and let the golden princess have full control over the spheres.

That made her a bit nervous, but she kept a careful grip on them and held them gently. Emhlys paused. “Do you think we might be able to spar?” he asked after a moment, stepping back and unsheathing his sword. “Not with these, obviously, but – perhaps, ah, with… slightly less fatal implements?”

_You want me to… throw them at you?_

“Something like that,” Emhlys admitted, holding his sword up in a series of blocks. “Then I would see if I could deflect them, and you deflect my strikes…”

The golden princess rotated herself carefully to look over at Círdnanh. The Queen sighed.

“You may _not_ use those stones for this,” she said, looking severely at Emhlys. “Little weaver, do not let him talk you into sparring with those stones. It’s far too dangerous.”

_Of course,_ the golden princess replied. _We can find something much lighter. Perhaps bags of straw._

Emhlys, however, seemed slightly disappointed. “I think I could have deflected the stones,” he sighed, lowering his sword.

The golden princess dropped two of the spheres with heavy cracking sounds. They rolled across the pavement, and she focused on the third, moving it directly in front of Emhlys’ face. _Do you want to try that out?_ she asked, rotating it gently. _I control this now, but that’s because it’s not moving. Once I throw it, I can’t stop it unless I take hold of it again. I don’t want you to get hurt on accident._

“Alright, you have a point,” Emhlys sighed dramatically, batting the stone away from his face. The golden princess brought it back to her and picked the other two up without touching them. “I’ll have the sparring floor master construct a few dummy stones to rip up.”

_That will work._ The princess paused. _I do look forward to throwing things at you._

“Hey!”

Contrary to her expectations, it worked. Several days later found them standing in the sparring yard; the princess hurled bags of sawdust and straw at Emhlys, and he tried to deflect or destroy them before she could hit him. In retaliation, he danced around and struck at her limbs and body; she had to shield herself and knock him away whenever she got the chance.

It was harder than she’d expected. He was swift and agile; she had to turn her whole body to keep her eyes on him, and she was only just learning how to shield specific parts of her body and not waste the energy on a whole protective dome. Emhlys was quick enough to get several hits in in a few seconds; it was hard for her to keep track of it and pull the shield in close enough to catch his short-range strikes. He managed to get through and prick her in the sides several times, the point of his sword just barely scraping through her carapace’s outer layer, but it was enough to hurt. If only she could get him a bit further from her, she could hit him with some of her magic!

Wait, she thought, after a moment. Magic isn’t the only thing I have.

Without further ado, as he was pulling back from one of his strikes, she stepped sideways and rammed him with her body.

She was more massive than he was, and roughly the same height; the sudden hit, delivered with the full weight of her body, knocked him clean over. She turned and pinned him down with one leg and gently set her fangs at the side of his head; she pinned his sword arm with another leg, and the fight was over.

“Oof,” Emhlys said, looking sideways at her. “I didn’t expect that.”

There was some scattered laughter from the edges of the courtyard; both of them glanced up and saw that a small group of fae had gathered there to watch. Emhlys shook his free fist in mock anger at them.

“You try fighting her,” he called, more amused than anything. “I challenge you to do better than I have.”

There was a moment of silence, and one tall fae with a sword stepped forwards. “Very well,” they said, shrugging. “I will do my best.”

“Oh,” Emhlys said. “I didn’t expect that, either.”

_I’ll fight you,_ the princess agreed. _I should experience as many different styles of fighting as I can._

The other fae bowed to her. “Princess,” they said, respectfully. “I am Caelmaeidre. It would be an honor to battle you.”

_Show me what you can._ The golden princess stepped off of Emhlys and backed up, letting him scramble up and move to the side of the court. Caelmaeidre took their place and drew a greatsword; much larger than Emhlys’, with a far greater reach.

This fae would not be as fast as Em, the golden princess thought. But they would deal much more damage. They would break through more of her shield. It would be harder. But it would be easier to keep them at a distance. How much of a distance might be up to them; they seemed quite strong, so they wouldn’t be burdened by the weight of their sword.

_Call for me, Em?_ she asked, backing up to allow Caelmaeidre to take up a stance in half of the practice pit.

“Sure,” Emhlys said, folding his arms. “Are you both ready?”

Caelmaeidre flicked the tip of the sword through the sand, then raised it into a fighting position and sank backwards. The golden princess felt slightly nervous; what if she couldn’t fight this fae? How embarrassing. And more importantly, how sad, because that would mean she weren’t actually very strong, and that would mean she weren’t capable of –

No. No, that wasn’t the right way to think. That didn’t mean she was a failure. That would mean she would learn.

“I am ready,” Caelmaeidre intoned, lowering their head. “And you, Princess?”

_I am prepared._

“Then begin,” Emhlys said.

Unlike Emhlys, Caelmaeidre did not rush forwards immediately. They stood back, wary, watching.

_No time like today,_ the golden princess said, and lifted the practice bags around her. She sent them whipping towards Caelmaeidre and was startled when they slashed apart the projectiles, untouched in the center.

Hmm. Unusual. Emhlys had dodged them all, or blocked; he’d destroyed one or two of them, but not all. Caelmaeidre seemed to take them all out. But how many could they block at once?

She tried to test that theory, sending increasing numbers of projectiles towards Cael; strangely, the fae seemed to be able to destroy them all regardless. How?

Now was not the time to test; Cael drove towards her, swinging wide at her front legs. She backed up, shielding every time that shining blade got too close to her; the tip skipped off her golden waver more than once. She felt the power behind the blows as well: Cael was strong.

Time to reposition herself. She was too far back. She rapidly backed up, confusing Cael for a moment, but kept going when she hit the edge of the pit. They lunged for her and made a swipe as she climbed backwards up it, to the roof, and skittered across it. Cael watched her go, sword up, turning to follow her. She laid a thread down and dropped, down into the center of the sand pit.

Now she was in a better spot. Cael repositioned themselves as well, wary. She reached back and picked up some of the practice bags. Time to figure out how they were so good at blocking.

She tested them, using one or two bags while they blocked and stepped towards her, slowly, carefully. After a few trials she felt a faint hint of a swirling magic around the edge of her bags; she felt it nudging them into the greatsword’s blade. Cael was using magic against her!

A-ha. So that was it. Cael was altering her projectiles. If she took the energy to control each one while she threw it, she’d probably be able to overpower the fae’s subtle touches; but she didn’t want to do that, because she’d lose the handle on all of them, and the change in her tactic would let Cael know that she’d caught on to their tricks.

No, she would have to do something else. If they were focusing on the bags, what were they not focused on?

She considered. They were obviously monitoring her magic, and where it was being used. So if she tried to, say, throw a different object at them, they would notice; and they would be able to redirect it. If she tried to pull on them, they would probably be able to resist.

But what about…

She raised five of the remaining target bags and hurled them at Cael. She felt them redirect the throws; as they did so, she reached past it and took hold of their sword.

They were startled enough that as they twisted the blade and forced it into the oncoming bags, she took their force and turned it into a pull in her direction, and wrenched the greatsword out of their grasp.

_There we are,_ she murmured, and whipped the sword it around to point it in their direction. Astonished, they held up their hands while the point of their own blade hovered in front of their face.

“…well played, Princess,” they finally said, and folded their hands and bowed. The golden princess turned the sword around again and handed it towards them, blade first; they took it and she let go. To their credit, they didn’t seem to react to suddenly holding the full weight of it. They were very strong.

They sheathed it on their back. “I see you noticed my alterations,” they said after a moment.

_I did,_ she answered. _You are very subtle. How?_

“It is how I work,” they said, spreading their hands.

_But how? I must know. How do you work so silently that I barely felt you?_

“With the utmost respect and devotion, Honeysuckle Princess, you are not the most… ah, shall we say, perceptive or observant of the talents of others. It is not a skill with which you have been trained.”

The princess considered this. _You are most likely correct,_ she said after a moment. _What, then, would be the best way to learn?_

Cael glanced over to Emhlys, who shook his head and gestured back to the princess. “Don’t ask me for permission,” he said. “I’ve got no greater authority than she. And she asked.”

“What you have just done is a good way to learn,” Cael said, looking back to the princess. “Fighting new opponents, discerning how they operate. It will help you in true battles as well – when you fight someone who is more willing to harm you than I. But keep in mind that they will actually try to harm you – you will not have the time you had, the time I gave you.”

_Understood,_ the princess said, swaying gently up and down. _I will keep this in mind. I will gladly spar with any who would like to test themselves against me; and I would like to fight with you again, in the future._

“I would be honored to assist you, Princess.”

_Do not say that unless you mean it._

“I do mean it.”

_Then I will call upon you in the future. If you are able to come, do so._

“Of course, Princess.” Cael bowed again, then turned and left the pit.

Emhlys looked over at her. “Well, well, well,” he said, after a moment. “Impressive! That was very official-sounding.”

_Was it?_

“It was! You sounded so regal and important. You ordered very well.”

_Oh, dear, that’s not exactly what I wanted to do…_

“Oops,” Emhlys said, shrugging. He grinned at her. “Don’t worry! That’s what you’re supposed to do as a royal.”

_You don’t do it._

“No, but I’m not a very good royal, am I?”

The princess debated this.

Emhlys lightly punched one of her legs and started out of the arena, picking up his sword as he went. “Don’t think too hard about it,” he laughed. “You’ve got a plan now, hmm? For training?”

_Well, part of one._ The golden princess walked alongside the prince and they headed back towards the top of the hill, towards their quarters. _I will call others to fight me regularly when I train. I will use magic on them; they will not tell me how they plan to fight before we battle. I want to fight every type of enemy I can. If there are beasts, let me fight them as well._

“That is most of a plan, yes,” Emhlys said. “Beasts, you say?”

_The Blue Empress’ dark creatures hunted me down specifically when I was in the Wyrmwood,_ the golden princess said. _I believe they knew what I was. I think they sensed my magic. I think perhaps she does not want those like me to survive. Why would she? Círdnanh has been teaching me that I am a creature that could challenge the Empress. If she has ruled for this long, certainly she does not want to give up her throne now. She would seek to destroy any who could rise to combat her._

“Even small things? Like yourself, like your siblings?”

_Certainly. Why not?_

Emhlys was silent for a time.

_This is not new,_ the princess said, softly. _You know she is ruthless. She has killed those who rose up before. She will do so again. She does so now. Why are you distressed?_

“I know she kills,” Emhlys answered, after a moment. “But you and your siblings were small. Just… well, children, I suppose. And she would have her servants kill you. She _did_ have her servants kill them.”

_Yes._

“That’s…” Emhlys paused again as they walked, letting out a breath. “In war, in battle, children are not killed. You _can’t_ do that. It’s evil.”

_So is the Empress._

“But evil is a difficult thing to call someone. The Empress has protected this realm for countless years – “

_From what?_

“From beings from other realms. From us, even, though we are not something that threaten this place. From accidental invaders; and she guards this country from wild creatures.”

_But she harms this place more than she helps it._

“Yes. And if she – she simply kills anyone who _could_ be a threat to her, not even those who are actively working against her, just those who accidentally exist a certain way…”

_You speak of this as if it were a travesty,_ the princess said, carefully. _Some sort of unnatural, taboo action. But this is simply nature._

“What?”

_If you are weak, you die,_ the golden princess said simply. _If you are strong, you kill and you live. This is how the Wyrmwood worked. If you are smart, you find better ways to avoid death. This is how it works amongst beasts; I was no better than a beast when I was too small to think. Not a child. An animal._

“Still…”

_My point is that I wish to fight beasts, because She controls beasts._

“_Controls_ them?” Emhlys looked sharply at her. “How do you know?”

_Why else would they hunt me specifically? Did they sense my magic? Perhaps. But why would the corruption make that possible? The corruption was not magic in itself. I think it affected them with Her control. I think that She can use them. _

“Are you certain?”

_I am certain of very few things._

“Fair enough. I’ll see what we can do.”

_I will even, if I must, find corrupted beasts to fight. I know they cannot stain me with their touch, so if I am wounded, I will recover._

Emhlys tapped his chin with one finger. “Dangerous, but understandable. I’ll see. My scouts and I often ride outside the Wood; perhaps you should accompany us sometime.”

_Please, _the princess sighed, as they reached their quarters. _I would relish the chance to see if my power still functions outside of the Wood._

She had that chance in short order.


	5. Intrusions

It was noon and she was sparring with a pair of fae – twin green-eyed sisters, one with a bow and the other with a quarterstaff – when there was a commotion in the hallway. It caught her attention – and it was headed in her direction. She and Emhlys both looked up.

“Halt,” Emhlys said, and the fae sisters dropped their fighting stances, bewildered. The commotion drew nearer.

It revealed itself to be Sedh, mounted and riding through the hallway. He was followed by a scout and a third horse bearing a fae who was absolutely drenched in blood.

“EMHLYS!” Sedh bellowed, skidding to a halt. “EM!”

“I’m here! I’m here, by the stars,” Emhlys called. “What is it?”

“You are needed, _now,”_ Sedh panted, clearly out of breath. “And you, Princess.”

_At once._ The golden princess turned to the sisters. _I apologize; I will call upon you some other time. I am needed._

“Of course, Princess,” the one with the quarterstaff said. They slipped to the side of the arena to collect their belongings and leave the sparring area.

_Where are we going?_ the princess said, to Sedh. Emhlys had already grabbed his sword and was headed for the door.

“Mender’s,” Sedh managed. “The Queen is already there.”

Oh. This had to be _very_ serious indeed.

The princess turned to Emhlys. _Go as quickly as you can. I am going above._

“I will see you there.” He nodded sharply and dashed out of the room.

The princess herself immediately scaled the nearest wall and squeezed through a gap in the roof, clambering out above the woven roofs and skittering over as quickly as she could. It was faster to go the birds’ route, even though she was leaving Emhlys in the dust. Occasionally, below, she caught a glimpse of him sprinting as quickly as he could manage through the halls. The fae moved out of his way.

The Menders were the healers of the fae, who fixed broken bones and torn skin and flesh, and who could even heal minds, given enough time. They were by the river, downstream from the Great Hall, and secluded in a glade of willow trees. The princess scuttled across several branches and across a woven silk bridge she had created days before; she was thankful for the hasty construction now.

Once there, she descended and slipped through a gap in the trees, scuttling down the walls from the roof. She could see a small knot of people and recognized Círdnanh’s tall, regal form amongst them.

_I’m here,_ she called. _Emhlys is on his way._

Círdnanh looked up sharply. Her brown eyes met the princess’ black; she nodded once.

The rest of the people, who were a few scouts and several Menders, were crowded around a bed. On it, the princess could see, was a fae writhing in agony. She wouldn’t be able to get close to him with all these people around, but…

There was a central column in the room. She quickly scaled a wall, went across the ceiling, and came down along the central column. Most of the beds were either against the walls or against the column; from here, she would easily be able to view the area without getting in the way, and she would be close enough to speak to the fae, should she need to.

But from here she could see what was happening.

The fae on the bed had been mauled, badly, by something with very large, very sharp claws. There were several deep gouges across his chest and shoulder, one coming dangerously close to his neck; there were makeshift bandages soaked in blood covering those areas. But the blood was not what worried the princess. It was the faint, vaporous-looking tendrils of dark, inky color that were stretching beneath his soil-brown skin.

The corruption. He had been attacked by a dark beast.

_Where did this happen? What wounded him?_ the princess asked, worry building.

_He is incoherent,_ the Queen whispered, into her mind. _He cannot speak clearly. We do not know what attacked him. But the scouts know where they were._

_Where?_

The Queen looked up, expression troubled. _The eastern edge of the Wood. Within the boundary._

A chill ran through the princess’ body. Dark beasts, within the Wood? How?

Emhlys appeared in the doorway, gasping for breath. He took in the scene immediately, then looked up to the princess.

_Dark beast, eastern edge of the Wood,_ she told him, and saw his eyes go wide. He looked to the wounded scout, then back up, then to his mother.

The princess looked back down to the man, who was being held to the bed by three Menders. He pressed his head into the pillow and looked directly up at her.

One of his eyes was black.

She shuddered then, a full-body shake, and crept backwards. _You are dangerous,_ she whispered into his mind. _What do you know? What can you do?_

His eyes went wide as she spoke to him, and he stopped moving for just a moment. Seizing the opportunity, she pressed further.

_You were attacked. Can you think? Can you speak? Who are you?_

“My –“ he gasped, trying to breathe. “I – “

The princess, feeling fear and pain, immediately dug into his mind. He resisted for a moment – but he was fighting something far greater.

She felt it. That deep hunger, that ache that always plagued her. It was tearing his mind apart. She searched for what was still there and gathered it together, and shielded it. The dark began to tear at her shield immediately and she hunkered down where she was on the tree trunk, fighting it back.

_Tell us everything you can,_ she said. _There is only so long I can protect you._

Below her, he gasped again and tried to speak.

“I am Verilian,” he managed, and coughed. “A dark beast. Attacked us at the edge…. of the Wood.”

_What type of beast?_

“Bear. From the east. Came from a cave. Didn’t expect it. I was alone.” he shook his head. “Stupid. I know. Killed Agate. Ran, not fast enough. Hit me. Like fire.” he gestured frantically towards the claw gouges on his chest, or tried; he was still being held down. “Was shot. Alive. Alive. I can feel it.” He squeezed his eyes shut, breathing through his teeth. “Deadly. Like plague.” He looked up again, into the princess’ eyes. His were desperate; she could read a faint understanding of his fate in the one that wasn’t darkened. “What do you need. To know.”

She knew what this darkness was. It turned. It killed. And in this case, it seemed like it was going to kill. She could see it spreading already, through his arms, down his torso. She could see tendrils already shooting through his blood, around his feet and hands, and she could see it closing in around his heart. He was going to die; that much was obvious.

He wasn’t asking to be helped; he knew what was happening. He was offering to be useful.

_Is She in your mind?_

He frowned, going vague for a moment. “No,” he said, after a second. “Not yet.”

_Not yet?_

“She could be.”

_But she isn’t?_

“If I live. Then yes.”

Ah. If he survived the fall, She would be able to see through him. That made sense. _Is it because you are able to think? To speak? Would She be there if you were an animal? Was She in that bear?_

“…No. Maybe. I don’t know.”

No correlation there, then. Perhaps it was voluntary. _Could She have been, if She had wanted to?_

“I don’t know.”

And he probably wouldn’t. _Are you certain She would be in you?_

“Yes.”

Because he was here. That much was obvious. The princess considered the dark tearing at her shield; it was rapidly draining her. She didn’t have much time left.

_Speak to Círdnanh._

He turned to the Queen. “Majesty,” he managed.

“Do you have a family?” she asked, immediately.

“Alhaere,” he managed. “My husband Alhaere, and Syndar, my daughter.”

The Queen nodded. “I will tell them anything you tell me.” she went silent; it was clear she was speaking to him with her mind.

He responded in kind, silently. After a moment, she reached over and touched two fingers to his head. He fell unconscious instantly, and then the princess felt the Queen’s gentle feather-touch on her.

_Let him go. He is gone now. He will not be awake to feel anything._

The princess removed her shield and winced when the darkness began to rip at him again. He still shone, deep in that miasma, but his light was breaking.

The Queen stood back. “Kill him,” she said quietly.

“Your Majesty?!” one of the Menders looked up, horrified.

“He will not recover from this.” She shook her head. “Look into his mind, or what’s left of it. Comprehend what he fights, but do not touch it. Do not take it. You cannot save him.”

The Mender went silent for a moment, then went white. “Oh,” they said, quietly.

“Kill him now, before he wakes. And take care not to touch the darkness.”

“We haven’t.” The Mender glanced down. “But how do we – “

The princess descended.

She pushed one of the Menders aside gently, positioned herself over the unconscious fae, and sank her fangs into his throat. She felt his heart frantically beating and gripped it in her magic, stopping it; he died moments later, and she backed up the tree, away from the bed.

Silence.

The Queen looked up. “Thank you,” she said calmly, nodding to the princess. She turned to the Menders. “Burn his body. We cannot allow this darkness to linger in the Wood. Do what rites you must, but cleanse anything that the darkness has touched. That includes anything that has come in contact with his blood; and anyone who has must be examined immediately.”

_Contact alone does nothing,_ the princess said, to everyone in the room. _You must be wounded by a dark beast, or consume a dark beast. Unless your skin is broken, you will be alright. But it is best to destroy the darkness wherever it is. Light should be enough. Fire will do._

“You heard her.” Círdnanh gestured towards Verilian. “Quickly.”

The Menders set to work cleaning up the blood and transported Verilian’s body out of the hall. The golden princess remained where she was, the taste of Verilian’s blood tainting her fangs. She cleaned herself carefully.

Emhlys began to pace back and forth. After a moment, he looked up. “Why,” he said, voice almost trembling, “did you do that?” The question was directed both to the princess and to his mother.

_He was going to fall,_ the princess said. _If he had woken, he would not have been himself. There was almost nothing left of him._

“He was speaking! To us!” Emhlys spread his arms, almost shouting now. He swallowed hard, eyes flicking over to the bed and the body and back to the princess.

_He spoke because I gathered and held him together enough to do so,_ the princess replied. _He was unable to do so on his own. He was being torn apart from within; he was lost the moment I let go._

“So why did you let go?”

_Because I could not sustain him for any longer, especially if we are to deal with this beast._ The princess cleaned sweet-tasting fae blood off one paw, which she had used to wipe her fangs. _He could not have been saved._

Emhlys whirled on her. “How do you know?” he demanded. She read his eyes; they were full of pain, pain that fueled his anger.

_ I have seen this many, many times before. In creatures in the Wyrmwood. In the serpent. The darkness kills, or it pulls them down. It was killing him. He was not strong enough to resist, and if he had lived, he would have turned against us as a mindless beast controlled by a greater enemy. There was nothing left for him._

“So you killed him. You – you _physically_ – you put your own, your fangs, in his _neck!_” Emhlys ran one hand through his braids, letting out a long breath.

_I am untouched by the darkness,_ the princess reminded him. _It cannot take me. It was safest for me to do it, and quickly._

Emhlys opened his mouth and closed it again, looking back and forth between his mother and the princess. Círdnanh only sighed and looked to the body as it was taken away by the Menders.

“Mother, please.”

“It was necessary,” she said softly.

“He was one of my scouts! I knew him! He has – he _had_ a husband, and a daughter, and you killed him!”

“You are saying things that are true, but in a manner that is untrue,” Círdnanh said quietly. Her words were barely audible, but they silenced Emhlys instantly. “Your sister did what she had to. He would have died either way – that was not something we could have changed. His suffering was prevented. This is not your sister’s fault, or mine, or yours, or anyone’s here. This is a terrible accident that has ended in tragedy.”

Emhlys subsided, but his breathing was uneven, and the princess could see his hands squeezing repeatedly into fists at his sides. He rubbed the pommel of his sword and turned away from them.

_We must find this beast and destroy it,_ the princess said.

“Yes,” Círdnanh agreed.

_Preferably soon._

“That’s correct.”

_Emhlys, will you come with me?_

He stood there for a moment, gripping his sword hilt.

_Em?_ the princess crept down the tree trunk to the floor and stepped over to the prince, silently. _I need your help to do this. I am no hunter of beasts; not yet. Your scouts will aid me if I ask them, but they are not mine. I cannot do this alone._

Emhlys let out a long, slow breath, and relaxed his grip on his sword. “Yes,” he finally said. “I am with you. Always. I am just…. this is not supposed to happen. They are not supposed to come here.”

_I know._

“They are not supposed to come here and kill my people.”

_I know._

“I am not certain,” he said carefully, tilting his head to the side and staring into nothing, “that I have _ever_ been this furious in my life.”

The princess was silent. Emhlys was not trembling; he was still as stone, one hand on his sword hilt, the other at his side. His eyes were closed. For a moment, he stood there, breathing, and then he opened his eyes and looked over to her.

“The beast will die,” he said. “We will hunt it down and kill it.”

_Yes._

“Now.” He turned. “Sedh will have alerted those who were not out riding. They will be waiting on my command. We will fetch them and go. I’m assuming you will be above?”

_Of course. I travel fastest through the trees. I will be with you when we leave._

Emhlys nodded. “Good. Come.”

He strode out of the hall. The princess followed him, silent, and they made their way to the courtyard.

There was already a contingent of mounted scouts waiting. Spire was already saddled. Emhlys, face stormy and set, mounted up without a second thought.

“There is a dark beast, a bear, at the eastern edge of the Golden Wood,” he told them, turning to face them. “We are going to kill it.”

“Understood,” said the captain assistant, who at the moment was a slender fae named Nal. “Do we know exactly where? We have the general patrol area, but no specific location as of now.”

“No. Verilian was alone when he was attacked, and he fled immediately and was taken down later.”

“Is he alright?” called another fae, from the back of the group.

“No.” Emhlys stared at the group, face stone-still. “He is dead.”

The scouts hushed. Emhlys turned Spire and headed out over the bridge.

The princess hurried over the river and up into the trees, where she began to make her way through the canopy. The further she got from the River Palace, the harder it was; it was less and less familiar, but the canopies still connected enough for her to get through. And while the horses had to contend with rocks, boulders, and steep slopes, she was able to simply make her way along the branches above them.

She was able to keep pace easily enough, and she followed them as they headed east. As they reached the area of the attack, they slowed and spread out in a search formation.

“This is where we found him. Saw the bear, too,” a small fae called Báelerath murmured to Emhlys, below. They were standing above a small hollow in the forest, on a ridge overlooking scuffed ground marked with gouges, hoofprints, and blood. The leaf litter had been disrupted, revealing the brown dirt below. “Reannan shot it, but it didn’t seem to react to that much.”

“We track it from here,” Emhlys ordered. “Sister, do you feel it?”

The golden princess paused and cast her mind out. It was the same sort of thing she had done when calling Emhlys long ago, but this time, she was searching for something in particular: the nearest beast that felt like that ancient ache.

It was not immediately close, but it was nearby. She could get a general direction; it had gone north since the attack… it seemed to be headed straight for the northern edge of the Wood. _Yes,_ she said, and relayed the information.

“Turn north, and keep a careful watch out,” Emhlys ordered.

Maybe she could get a better idea of where it was. _I’m going ahead,_ she whispered to Emhlys. _Don’t worry. I won’t get close to it if I don’t have to, unless I have a very good chance of incapacitating it._

“You always were the careful one,” he muttered. “I would tell you to stay safe, but you’ll manage that on your own.”

The golden princess worked her way forwards, far above in the branches. She tried to be silent, and she tried to hone in on the feeling of the beast.

She knew its general direction, and the sensation of it grew stronger as she got closer. Something about this situation, as well, felt almost familiar. She kept going.

It took a few minutes, but she came upon the bear. She saw it, forging northwards at a fair clip, slowed by hills and by foliage but still heading in one direction. Carefully, she stayed hidden, going so far as to shield herself from view – something she was learning how to do.

The bear did not notice her. She watched it. There was an arrow embedded in its neck, but it didn’t really seem to be otherwise wounded, except it was favoring one front leg. It must have been struck during the previous battle with the scouts.

It was large. Massive, even; far larger than she was. She couldn’t take it out on her own, but it was heading north, and if she didn’t slow it down, it was unlikely that the riders would catch up with it. If she waited for them to catch up to her, or headed back, she might lose the bear.

Hmm.

Well, it was headed north. It didn’t seem like it was likely to switch directions. So…

She could lay a trap for it.

This was just like hunting in the Wyrmwood, when she was young. Exactly the same. Carefully, she climbed ahead of the bear, making note not to stir any branches or drop leaves in the bear’s path. It was difficult, but she was able to get in front of it. Its path did not change.

She needed a good clearing.

There was one a fair distance ahead, heading into the foothills of the mountains. It would do well, for an ambush, but it was outside of the boundaries of the Golden Wood.

She could not debate her own hesitation; she stepped from the silver trees of the Wood into the poplar and maple hardwood of the foothills. As she passed over the barrier, she felt the power of the Golden Wood begin to fade, flowing out of her and leaving behind only that terrible ache.

But the power of Sylvach itself remained, a deep, ancient strength slumbering far below. She could feel it, and if she could feel it, she could draw on it.

Her own power, as well, simmered within her. A reservoir of glittering energy that she could pull upon. And it was more than she remembered having as a spiderling; but that was probably because the Queen had taught her how to use it.

To the clearing. When she reached it, began immediately to spin a trap: silk on the floor, around the edges, in a latticework just under the canopy, and most importantly, in a net that she carefully spun and strung between her front legs, positioning herself at the top of the clearing.

And she waited.

The bear approached. She could hear it trudging through the undergrowth; she could only assume that at this point the riders had probably caught onto its trail. She remained silent until it touched the outermost spoke of her web, the one that she had spun over the forest floor and covered in leaves. It wasn’t sticky, but it was enough to let her know that it was here.

She waited.

It pulled itself into the center of the clearing. She could see it clearly now; a black-furred bear, abnormally large, muzzle completely covered in black ichor and the drying blood of Verilian and his late mount. She could see that blood on its front paws as well. The arrow in its nape was bothering it; she could see it swing its head occasionally and grunt.

She waited.

After what seemed like an eternity, it reached the center of the clearing. Here, the web was stickier, and that gave it pause. The golden princess detached herself from the top of the clearing and dropped.

She struck it perfectly, dropping the net carefully over its form, the sticky strands adhering instantly to its black fur. With that, she sprang away to the edge of the clearing and scampered up a tree, fearing that it would break free and attack her.

It did not. It was caught unawares, and her net managed to ensnare one of its legs. It was a front paw, and the good one; it fell onto its side and began to thrash wildly, bellowing.

She reached out with her mind until she felt Emhlys to the south. It was harder to do now that she could not draw on the Wood for power, but it was possible with only her own strength. They were not too far behind, but they had been going more slowly than the bear had. _Come,_ she called to him. _I have captured the bear, but I do not know how long it will be ensnared for. It is too dangerous for me to go closer, or I would bite it and be done with the whole matter._

He didn’t respond, but she felt the urgency in his mind peak and sensed immediately that his speed had doubled. They were riding north.

It took only a few minutes for the riders to charge into the clearing and surround the bear. It was slashing out at anything that got near it; its wild strikes were far too random and swift for the princess to risk darting in to bite it and inject venom. She had tried to reach for its heart as she had done with Verilian, but it was too far away, and she was tiring.

Nal immediately whipped out an arrow and sent it flying towards the bear. The silk net, already stressed, was breaking; the bear’s struggles strengthened as the arrow pierced its side and it managed to tear one of the strands.

Unfortunate.

It still had one paw confined. It limped up and began to back away, snarling; Nal sent another arrow towards its face, but it dipped its head and the arrow sank into its thick neck fur. It bellowed, angry now.

And the battle began in earnest. Emhlys charged it and slashed at its face; it clawed at Spire and missed. The other fae peppered it with arrows, and even the princess joined in the fight, hurling nearby stones at it.

They wore it down until it was sluggishly swiping at everything nearby. The princess took a chance and dropped down on a single thread, landing on its back; she was still small enough that she could accomplish this without knocking it over, and she reached down and sank her fangs into its neck.

She had venom. It wasn’t something she used very often, but she had venom, and at this moment she pumped that venom into the bear. It roared and tried to shake her off, but she was still attached to the thread; she pulled her fangs out, turned and began to climb the thread as quickly as she could, leaving the bear behind.

Now it was definitely going to die, provided it wasn’t somehow immune to her venom. It might take some time, but it would die.

She caught Emhlys glancing up at her every now and then. She remained where she was, perched motionless on the underside of the canopy, and waited.

The fae riders encircled the bear, but to their confusion, its movements began to slow. First it stumbled; then it staggered drunkenly to the side, and finally it began to lose control of its limbs. Half of them stopped working; it started to drag itself, then finally couldn’t move at all and lay twitching on the ground.

_Do not approach it yet,_ the golden princess told the riders, and they stayed away. _It has yet to die._

“What did you do?”

_It is paralyzed. It is suffocating. If you can kill it, do so. Otherwise, it still presents a danger._

“Nal?”

The assistant captain nodded, nocking an arrow. She rode her mount around to where she could see the bear’s face, sighted, and let fly; the arrow buried itself up to the fletching in the bear’s eye. The body didn’t react, because it couldn’t, but the princess felt its life flicker and go out.

_It is dead._

“Burn it,” Emhlys commanded, remaining where he was, eyes fixed on the body. “Destroy every trace of its presence.”

They had to track its blood all the way back through the forest, scorching every hint of it from the ground; all of the blood was dangerous, should it be consumed by another creature. The darkness could not be allowed to spread within the Golden Wood.

Many of the blood splatters or small marks had been rendered safe by exposure to the Golden Wood’s sunlight. It overpowered and cleansed them of the shadow. But the larger marks… those held danger.

It took hours. By the time they had finished, the sun was gone, and the moon was beginning to cast its light down through the canopy. The princess watched over the riders as they returned to the River Palace, the sound of the water and the softly glowing lamps in the trees greeting them.

She bypassed the courtyards and went over the building to her chambers, where she found the Queen waiting.

“Is it dead?” Círdnanh asked, standing in a pool of moonlight.

_Yes._

“I take it all traces of it are destroyed?”

_Emhlys made sure of it._

“Good. I wish to speak with him.”

The princess understood that she was dismissed; she retreated into her clearing and spun herself a sling to rest in.

She heard Emhlys enter the courtyard, and heard quiet murmurs of conversation, but did not care to listen in. Those words were not for her.

Then there was silence.

And then she heard Emhlys again, moving out into the courtyard. Carefully, the princess climbed out of her sling and stepped out through the doorway. Emhlys was sitting on a stone by the pool of water in the center of the courtyard, staring into it. She could see the glitter of tear tracks on his face. The princess took a few steps towards him and paused.

_Why do you sorrow, brother?_

“You are so cold,” he whispered, shaking his head. “You and my mother, both. You’ll do what you have to. Always.”

_What we have to._ She agreed.

“I can’t do that. I can’t. I couldn’t have killed Verilian. Fae die so rarely, and this entire matter is so sudden and awful. And before, earlier, I was so angry, that it killed him, and we hunted it and killed it and burned it but…” he paused and swiped a sleeve across his face. “I was so furious. It was like I was not myself. I was a fire, a cold flame, and I had only one purpose and that was to kill and destroy what had harmed my people.”

He looked up and over his shoulder to where the princess stood, silent in the darkness.

“Is that what it’s like for you, sister?” he asked. “Because it was so simple there. I had to kill the beast. And that was that. There were no thoughts of mercy, there was no decision to make. I was something else but myself. Is that what you feel? With your life’s quest?”

The princess thought about this.

_I don’t think it’s quite the same,_ she said, moving up behind him. _I think you felt part of what it’s like for me. But there are other things in my life besides my quest. There are the people here, my people now as they are yours, and there is Cír and you, and the forest itself. There is all of Sylvach, yes, but there is this part of it specifically, and I love this place and you and Cír. You are my family. You are not part of my quest, but part of my life._

Emhlys leaned back against one of her front legs. “Then what happened to me?”

She was silent.

“I can’t be like that. It was horrible. I hated it, I don’t ever want to feel like that again. I frightened myself.”

_For a moment,_ the princess admitted, _in the Menders’ hall, you frightened me as well. I thought you were angry with me, with Cír. I thought you blamed us. And if you did, I was afraid that you were right. I was afraid you would hate me for what I had done._

“I don’t,” he whispered. “I cannot. You did what was right. But I couldn’t have.”

_Not everyone has to._

“But what if I do, in the future? What if I have to do something and I can’t?” He looked back up to her, eyes searching. “What if you aren’t there?”

_I will always be there._ She made this as a promise. _I’ll be there to help you if you need it._

Emhlys laughed, a short, humorless laugh. “Fancy that,” he murmured, casting his eyes down. “I rescued you, and now I cannot be without you.”

_I can always leave, too, if you need that. Or I can build a web above the Palace and loom menacingly over it until you decide. I could draw pictures in the silk! Make some shadow puppets._

This made Emhlys snort with legitimate mirth; the princess felt a glow of happiness and a wave of relief. He could still laugh; he was alright.

He wiped at his eyes again. “Perhaps I shouldn’t worry so much about it,” he said. “But it was just… It felt so wrong.”

_You control yourself. No one else._ The princess nudged his back gently. _Perhaps when you feel such a rage come upon you – _

“Don’t accept it?”

_No!_ The princess nudged him again, slightly harder this time. He sighed. _Do not deny yourself your own thoughts. But control the way in which you express them. You have always had laughter in your soul. Find your joy in your anger; find it in justice, and triumph, and you will be stronger in your anger than you ever could have been when rejecting it._

“When did you become smarter than me?” Emhlys muttered, shaking his head.

_I was always smarter than you._ The princess laughed into his mind, and was rewarded with a weary smile. _It is late. The moonlight is not quite as good as the sun for reading or work, though it is better for contemplation. I would suggest that you sleep._

“If you insist,” Emhlys sighed. “I wanted to sit here for several hours more and feel sad.”

_Oh, get up,_ the princess grumbled, and gave him a real push this time. He groaned, but obliged, standing up and walking back towards his room.

He paused as he reached the archway leading in. “Thank you,” he said, looking back to the princess. “I’m sorry I called you cold. That was rude.”

_Don’t worry,_ the princess replied. _I am cold._

Emhlys snorted again. “And _that_ was cold. Alright. I still don’t know if you need to sleep as much as I do, but if that is the case, then you should also go.”

_Of course. Just had to make sure you were alright._

“I’m… I’m fine, now. Good-night.”

He stepped into his chamber, out of her sight. The princess stood for a moment in the moonlight on her own, then turned and stepped back into her clearing.


	6. Spies

The attack on the eastern edge of the Wood was concerning. If the bear had gotten through, what else could slip by the barriers at the edge of the Wood? And where had it come through?

Emhlys’ scouts began to patrol the eastern edge, along with several mages who had created the immaterial barriers that protected this sacred place. There must be a breach somewhere.

But where?

They hadn’t felt the wall break. The hadn’t felt disturbances before the attack; there was no indication of the bear breaking through.

Which mean that it had fallen, had succumbed to the dark stain, within the Wood.

“I don’t like that,” Emhlys said, when the inspection of the wall was complete. He was standing in a council chamber off the Great Hall, overlooking a map of the Wood. Círdnanh, the princess, and several of the mages were all there, gathered around. “At what point could something have crept through that just now has managed to affect a greater creature of the Wood?”

“Perhaps when you returned from the Serpent’s Rocks, the ichor on your blades retained the shadow within the Lady there?” one of the mages suggested.

The princess swayed back and forth. _No,_ she said. _The daylight would have burned it to naught. It was not their swords._

“Then at some point, something got through.” the mage, an aging fae called Bidde, threw her hands up in the air. “I don’t know when, and I don’t know where, and I don’t know how, and above all I don’t know what it was. But something got through.”

“How?!” Emhlys ran one hand through his hair, staring at the map. “And what was it? Without knowing, we cannot possibly find it, and it could do more damage. An animal as small as a mouse could have been consumed by something, which then would be stained; and that would continue to the largest creatures like the bear. But if it were part of something killed and eaten by the bear, then there are other creatures that ate part of its body as well.”

“It could also have been something like a snake,” offered the other mage at the table, a younger fae named Kallan. “Something that will have bit multiple creatures before its inevitable death.”

“But the death implies that something ate it afterwards,” Emhlys said. “Which is even worse. And this brings another question: why, in this case, are there not more creatures affected?”

Kallan began to argue with Emhlys and Bidde; Círdnanh tried to intervene several times. The talking got louder.

_I think_, said the princess, loudly and directly into everyone’s minds, _that you are assuming that this creature acts like an animal._

Everyone, slowly, stopped speaking and looked over to her.

“And what do you mean like that, dear daughter?” Círdnanh said slowly.

_These creatures._ The princess crept forwards slowly, putting her front legs up on the table and lifting herself up to see the map. _They can be controlled by the Empress, I believe. If one were within the Wood, she could instruct it not to interact with anything until it was time. And eventually, she could instruct it to bite a bear, or be eaten by a bear. She would take the bear…_

She trailed off. The rest of the story they already knew.

“But that begs the question,” Círdnanh pointed out, frowning at the map, “of where that creature is now.”

“If the stars are aligned in our favor, it will be gone, eaten by the bear,” Emhlys said. “If they are not, it is dead, and there are many more creatures that fed on it that now carry traces of the shadow in them.”

Silence.

“Princess,” Kallan said, turning to her. “You know this darkness well. Could you find what altered the bear? Could you search the Wood and find it?”

_I can try,_ the golden princess answered dubiously, _but it may take me a considerable amount of time and effort. I do not know how to search the land from afar, and I will have to walk the entirety of the Wood to find it._

“I can teach you to find,” Círdnanh interjected. She leaned forward onto the table, staring at the map. “We must find and end this threat; it is of the utmost importance.”

_Of course._

“Emhlys, you and your scouts will guard the borders and ensure that nothing comes through. Renew the barriers if you can. Make absolutely certain that the Wood is secure.”

“Understood.” He bowed shortly and stepped back.”

“With me, my daughter.” Círdnanh turned and swept out of the room; the princess followed her.

The Queen led her to a chamber behind the throne room, a high, quiet place. “Many great acts of magic have been performed in the Wood,” she explained, as they entered. “Most of them were cast from here.”

_What is this place?_

“The ritual chamber,” Círdnanh told her. “It is the center of the Wood, the focus of all of the magic of this place. From here, you should be able to see and sense everything within the Wood, from the Palace to the furthest edges. Do not let it overwhelm you, for mages in the past have lost their minds to the world.”

_I understand. How do I use it?_

The Queen beckoned, stepping away from the center of the chamber. The golden princess stepped forwards, positioning herself over the center stone in the round pattern of stones on the floor.

She immediately felt the difference. The ground here hummed; she could sense the potential racing beneath the soil here. _I see,_ she murmured, lowering herself down to settle on the stonework.

“Be careful, my daughter,” Círdnanh murmured to her. “I will do my best to guide you, but this power will be within you and you alone while you stay here.”

_I will be careful,_ the golden princess promised. _I will retreat if I fear that it has me too strongly in its grasp._

“If it does, I pray that you _can_ retreat,” Círdnanh said. “But we have wasted enough time as it is. Begin.”

The princess agreed. She touched her mind to the raw, unchanged power of the Golden Wood, and searched for the dark beast.

Immediately, her awareness expanded. She felt lost for a moment, sensing all of the Wood at once; it was no small search like she had done before but an immensity of being which she had never experienced. She felt Círdnanh’s soft fluttering magic beside her; on the hill below she felt Emhlys as a bright spark of flame and the scouts as she would see fireflies, their mounts surging with power and speed beneath them. She felt the river itself, in the Wood a calm flow of clear water, but alive with the memory of crashing through the mountains and the knowledge of the life it would bring downstream. She felt the trees and the sky, she felt her own webs strung in the branches, she felt the wild creatures of the Wood.

It felt like an hour, a day, a year she spent watching over the Wood, though it was only a few moments. She felt the ever-present swell of life, the wave that rose and fell through the five seasons. She felt the first breath of a newly-hatched bird and the last of a dying fox. She saw it all.

To find the beast. She had to find the beast. She pulled herself back. She could not afford to be caught up in the wonder of the Wood; she had a task to accomplish.

She drew upon the memory of that deep emptiness within her and searched.

And recoiled in horror, physically pulling herself out of the center of the ritual chamber and scuttling backwards, spiricles hissing as she gasped in a breath. Círdnanh stayed with her, worried, touching the side of her head.

“Little weaver?” she asked, gently. “What is it? What did you see?”

_Spies,_ the golden princess managed, horrified. _Everywhere._

“What?”

_There are birds, and mice, and minks, and centipedes,_ she whispered. _Deer and rodents and fish. All of them. All of them dark. All of them waiting. All of them knowing. Far from the Palace, but some are closer. They are watching. They are watching us._

Círdnanh was silent.

The golden princess turned to face her. _They are watching us,_ she repeated, searching her mother’s eyes. _They have _been_ watching us. There are creatures so filled with shadow that they are nothing _but_ a shadow. They are around us. She knows. She can see through their eyes. She knows that I am here, She knows that I am learning from you. I am not a secret. I am a danger to her. She knows what we are doing. She knows!_

“Calm yourself,” Círdnanh murmured, gently stroking the side of the princess’ face. She felt her panic recede, and knew that the Queen was soothing her emotions, but did not resist. “What did you feel, exactly?”

_There are small creatures that watch us from within the Wood,_ the princess replied. _They have been here, always. They do not interact with us; they want to be secret. I have no doubt that She sees all that we do._

When she had searched for them, she’d felt them – like spots of rot on a leaf, tiny blotches of darkness sprang up in her awareness. Hundreds of them, thousands, blights upon the golden tapestry of the Wood. There had been a few near the Palace, but the further from it she searched, the more she felt. They congregated in the places the fae rarely went, clearly hiding from them, but they were positioned in patterns. To watch, to observe, to report. They were spies, and the Wood was saturated with them.

The Golden Wood was not safe. The Golden Wood had never been safe.

The Empress knew everything.


	7. Visions

Far out in the ocean, a single island jutted out of the waves. The dark sea lapped at the rock; overhead, a powerful, ever-present storm whirled. This was no hurricane, but a thundering, ominous cloud; the winds remained above, always threatening the city below. It did not strike yet.

A crocodile made its way through the waves, from the mainland. It didn’t seem bothered by the chill off the ocean; it didn’t seem bothered by the fact that as it swam its dark blood swirled off into the water. Its eyes were black.

The island grew closer. Lightning flickered through the deep purple-gray clouds. The sound of thunder rolled from one side of the sky to the other.

It was not a rock island only; there were sand beaches at the base of the cliffs. The crocodile pulled itself up onto one such beach, snorting to get the water out of its nose.

This creature had one purpose, and it was fulfilling it.

At the base of the cliffs, where the black rock met the white sand, was a dark cave entrance. The crocodile rested for a moment on the wet sand before lifting itself up and walking as best it could to the cave.

The air from the cave was just as cold as the air outside. The crocodile disappeared into the darkness, all six meters of it. Its heavy tail left a gouge in the sand, but that would soon be washed away by the rising tide.

The cave floor was sand and stone. The crocodile hauled its body over the uneven rock, scraping its scales on the basalt. Its eyes were not made for darkness, but it did not need to see; the shadow within it drew it to its destination.

Down, into the caves. It turned down a side passageway and descended below sea level, below the island, to an underground passage of water. There it slipped in and swam.

Further. Further through the caverns, through the cool dark water, through the parts of the caves where bioluminescent moss glimmered – but the moss was stained dark in places, and its soft light was extinguished.

The passageway turned up again; the crocodile could sense the vibrations of water falling into a pool above it. It swam upwards and broke through the surface of a faintly glowing pool of water. Trickles dripped into it from around the cavern; in the center, stone rose up to create a platform.

Lounging on that platform was a black panther, far larger than the crocodile itself, staring into nothing.

The crocodile pulled itself out of the water and approached.

“Speak,” the cat purred, “if you have aught to say worth listening to.”

The crocodile gave her what it knew. The taste of ashes in the water of the river; the glimpses from that forbidden jungle of a great golden spider. That caught the cat’s attention; she flicked her ears forward and turned her eyes on the crocodile as it gave up its memory to her.

“A spider.”

A single image – a spider, large as a horse, spinning with golden thread and a mirrored body in the trees of the Golden Wood.

The cat’s purr turned to a deep growl of frustration. “One escaped, then,” she murmured. “That kind was gone. They were confined to the Wyrmwood; how did one manage to slip through its embrace?”

The crocodile did not know. It cowered in place, silent.

Infuriated, the cat turned her head and reached out one massive, velvet paw. With it she lifted a milky white orb of stone and set it in front of her, then breathed out over it, cold breath misting the surface.

“Show me the Golden Wood,” she murmured. “Let me see it through the eyes of my servants.”

To the crocodile, the orb did not change. But the cat’s eyes narrowed as she stared into its depths; she saw beyond its opaque sheen.

After a few moments, her growl scaled down in disgust. “The _fae_,” she snarled, looking away from the orb. “Intruders and usurpers, seeking to take my realm from me. I will not suffer their insolence. I will not suffer their presence if I do not have to; they have been a thorn in my side for far too long.” She paused, head cocked to the side. “But my creatures alone cannot break through their barriers; their small world is theirs alone. Those within could attack, but they will guard their Palace. I will not be able to destroy them in their forest.”

She thought for a moment.

“So I must draw them out.”

Silence.

“I will do nothing, then. I will wait. I will watch. We will _see_ what they choose to do with their spider.” Her muzzle pulled back, baring her teeth. “It will not challenge me. It will never be strong enough, despite what the fae may tell it.”

Her, the crocodile said, and immediately regretted it and cowered again. One did not _correct_ the Blue Empress.

“Oh?” But she seemed curious about this, piercing eyes rounded on the crocodile. “She, you say?”

It had seemed so. Something about her quiet, intense elegance spoke of her mind. The crocodile didn’t know how to convey this, but did the best it could.

“Interesting. What is her name?”

It didn’t know.

“I will find it. She will not escape me for long.” The Empress turned to the orb again and pulled it closer to her, peering into its depths. The light it cast shimmered over her face as her whiskers brushed against its smooth surface.

“No, she cannot escape. She wishes to grow powerful. She destroys my servants. She will be consumed.”

-

Círdnanh pulled herself from the center of the ritual chamber, feeling her heart flutter in her chest and her breath catch in her throat.

The princess watched carefully as she calmed herself and turned.

“Even now, at this moment, Her eyes are cast upon the Wood,” the fae queen said. “She knows we are here. She knows you are here. You were right; She now watches through the creatures in the forest.”

“Should we exterminate them?” Emhlys said, one hand rubbing the pommel of his sword.

_No,_ the princess said, swaying back and forth gently. _She will know that we know of Her actions if we do. She will press harder, I believe. Anything we can keep secret from Her, we should. And… we cannot possibly find each servant of Hers. There are too many. They are too swift and secretive._

Círdnanh nodded, frowning. “I agree,” she said. “If it were possible to tell where those creatures were, all the time… but most of our people can only barely sense them.”

_Unfortunate,_ the princess mused.

“I cannot at all,” Emhlys said, worried. “Some of my scouts seem to have a feeling for where they will be, but it’s not exact.”

_What do we do, then?_ the golden princess asked, looking to Círdnanh. _Do we take precautions? Do we hide?_

“We thought we _were_ hidden,” Círdnanh murmured, shaking her head. “No, we will continue as we have been. My daughter, you will continue to train, but confine yourself here if you can. We do not want the Empress knowing much of what you are able to achieve. So you train, but you do so away from the eyes of her creatures.”

_I understand,_ the princess said, disappointed. She loved the Wood, and being in it was comforting to her, but if she could not venture out into it, she would not. She had to remain silent and secret for as long as she could; she had to keep her abilities out of sight of the Empress.

She was already at a disadvantage, because the Empress knew where she was, and knew she was strong and large. That was bad. But what she would do after that, none of them knew.

It was harrowing. It was a tense, silent time, awaiting the Empress’ reaction.

None came.

It seemed that Círdnanh’s scrying had been true; the Empress was waiting to react, waiting and watching the princess. She did not want to act yet. And neither would the fae. They were waiting, now, waiting for something else to happen; for some greater catalyst. For something or someone to make a move. For something to force them.

Those days were uncertain and fearful. It felt like waiting for the first drops of rain in a thunderstorm, or the rush of water after a river-dam was broken. It felt, to the princess, like holding her breath, and for what, she did not know.


	8. The Golden Wood

Part Two: Integration

-

“Now has come a time,” Círdnanh said, “when you cannot learn anything more from me.”

The golden princess stopped short. She was currently manipulating several different objects of varying sizes in the air, and speaking with two different people mentally; Círdnanh’s words caught her off guard, and she cut her other conversations short.

_What?_

Círdnanh, who had unexpectedly entered the training arena and was standing by the edge, looked her over. She had grown since hunting down the bear, and dwarfed any of the fae; she was far larger than their horses, and probably could have _carried_ one of the horses around if she so desired. She certainly was able to pick up deer and elk and carry them.

“My daughter, you are powerful,” Círdnanh sighed. “And because this is your world, you are stronger here than I.”

Emhlys was standing at the edge of the pit. He exchanged a baffled glance with the princess; she had a quick conversation with him.

_What is she saying? I don’t understand._

“Neither do I,” Emhlys murmured.

“What I am saying, my dear,” Círdnanh said carefully, “is that the barriers have been broken.”

Absolute silence. Emhlys’ face drained of all blood; the objects the princess had been holding froze in the air.

Caelmaeidre, the other fae that the princess had been conversing with, stared uncomprehending at the Queen. She let out a long sigh.

“They are broken, and there are dark beasts within the Wood.”

“How?!” Emhlys finally managed, breaking out of his stupor. “How is this _possible?!_”

“I don’t know,” the Queen said, shaking her head. She looked truly defeated, dropping her hands to her sides; she squeezed her eyes shut. “Bidde, Kallan, Dheile, Kuovor, and Aeraix were killed earlier today while patrolling the border. Within the barriers, but they were killed, and then – after that happened – the barriers were broken. There are beasts within the Wood. We do not know where. We do not know how many. But She has made her move.”

Emhlys tried to speak, but couldn’t. He looked over to the princess, then back to his mother. Five mages had been killed? Five?

Fae did not die often. They were immortal, almost, living thousands of years and surviving terrible injuries. To have five executed in a single day without warning was…

The princess did not know the words for this. She remained silent.

“What we do now will determine our future,” Círdnanh said.

Emhlys finally found his voice. “What _do_ we do?”

“We strike. Eliminate any dark-touched creature in this forest. And prevail.” She narrowed her eyes. “The Empress misjudges her foe. She believes us to be lofty and weak. We are not.”

The princess stepped forwards. _I will find them and show you where they are,_ she said. _But the barriers. They must be repaired._

Círdnanh nodded. “And after this, you must claim your own land.”

The princess stopped. _I don’t understand._

“The Empress knows you are here. Your tie to Sylvach is greater than your tie to the Golden Wood. You must claim your own home somewhere else in the world. I cannot teach you any more, and I cannot protect you.”

_But there is nowhere safer than this Wood._

Círdnanh shook her head. “This is not true,” she murmured. “This Wood is being invaded. It is dangerous now because we are not used to the dark-touched. Find a place where you will be most powerful and build a home there.”

The princess knew where she would go. Back home, to the Wyrmwood. It was the only place that belonged to her more than the Golden Wood did. And she was beginning to realize that while she was in the Wood, everything within was in greater danger due to her presence. _I will, but I do not understand…_

“Once you create a home, we will strike at the Empress. You must learn about her.” Círdnanh stepped closer until she could touch her daughter’s face, gently. “We will keep her occupied, but we cannot do so forever. We can keep her attention off of you. We will do so for as long as we can, but after a point we will have to leave and you must be ready for that.”

Emhlys, next to her, drew in a sharp breath. His expression was caught between fear and disbelief. “Are we going home?” he finally managed, so softly the princess almost didn’t hear it.

Círdnanh nodded. “We will.”

He shook his head, blinking, and looked down. “It’s been so long,” he murmured. “I… have forgotten what Faolarghn is like.”

“You will have a chance to learn about it once more,” the Queen promised. “Our time in this world is coming to an end.”

“We’re going home. We’re going home!” He smiled, but then his expression faded, and he turned to the princess. “…you aren’t going to come with us.”

_No. Your world is not my world._

Emhlys looked back to the Queen, stricken. “I… don’t want to leave you here,” he said, looking between them. “I don’t want to lose you.”

_There is time yet,_ the princess said, assuring herself as much as she was assuring Emhlys. _You are not leaving until you have had a chance to antagonize the Empress._

“Oh, it sounds very bad when you say it like that,” Emhlys muttered. “That just sounds incredibly foolish.”

“It is,” Círdnanh agreed. “But we will do it regardless. Weaver, have you picked your home?”

_I know where I will go._

“Then let us go. I will help you build a new home there and then…” she trailed off for a moment, staring at nothing, dark eyes fixed on some point in time that the others could not see.

Emhlys stepped forward. “We will see what happens,” he said firmly. “But I will tell my scouts to prepare us for battle. For a battle that may last months, or years; for a war.”

“This is not what I wish I had brought to this land,” Círdnanh sighed. “But if the Empress chooses to fight us, as she so clearly has, then she will experience the wrath of the fae.”

She spun and left the room, striding for the ritual chamber. The golden princess put away the things she had been practicing with and followed; Emhlys accompanied her, though he wasn’t sure where they were going.

They went to the throne room. The queen stepped up to her throne and looked it over, then grasped a branch and snapped it off.

“This,” she said, “is yours.”

She handed it to the princess, who took it delicately in her jaws.

_What am I to do with it?_

“Plant it and make it grow. But not here.” Círdnanh’s eyes had lost the calm shimmer they normally possessed and gained a deep glow. “Wherever you choose to go.”

_I am returning to the Wyrmwood._

“So it shall be. We will go with you.”

The scouts, some mages, Emhlys, and the Queen set out with the golden princess. She led them southwards; the weakened barriers of the Golden Wood shivered as she passed through them. Out on the plains she could feel the black hunger of the Empress’ drain clawing at her, but she resisted it. Now was not the time.

The journey south was swift, far faster than it should have been. The princess walked on her own – no horses could carry her, and she was faster than they were.

They curved west after a time. She saw the haze of green in the distance, growing to the tangle of trees and vines as she drew closer. The Queen stared silently at it.

When they reached the edge of the Wyrmwood, they paused.

_This is my home,_ the golden princess said, _but it is a very dangerous place. Be careful while you are here. There are dark creatures in this land and they will attack. I will try to protect you, but do not stray from my side. It is easy to be lost._

Murmurs of assent. The golden princess turned and stepped into the trees.

It was smaller than she remembered, but that was because she was much larger. It was harder to navigate; she couldn’t scuttle through the gaps between branches, couldn’t slip under fallen logs or into the hollows of trees.

But the larger paths were open to her. The trails through the undergrowth where only deer and panthers had gone. She could walk them without fear; she was larger than anything in this forest now, and she would not be frightened by the predators that could not harm her.

She saw them. They lurked in the shadows, fleeing from her presence; she realized she let off a faint glow at times, like an echo of sunlight.

Deeper into the Wyrmwood. She stuck to paths large enough for the fae to follow on their mounts; a train of riders, sometimes going single-file behind her. Where the path failed, she created a new one, pushing aside obstacles and smoothing the ground.

There was a center to this forest. It was vast and spread for miles, but she knew there was a center. She could feel it. She reached out and searched for it, and kept walking south.

It was a silent journey. The quiet was unnerving, but somehow, unbreakable. No one spoke; the princess led them onwards.

There was no landmark at the center of the Wyrmwood; there was no mountain or hilltop, no deep ravine where the sun struck once a day. It was a clearing, and that was it.

She stopped.

_This is where I will stay,_ she said. _When I have done what is necessary, this will be my home. This is where I choose to build my lair now._

The branch rested on her back. She picked it up and chose a spot in the dirt at the edge of the clearing, scraping away part of a rotting log and some moss to make room for it. The silver twig had a single golden leaf on it.

She planted it in the ground and patted the dirt down around it, then reached deeper even than the Wyrmwood’s magic, into that of Sylvach. It was not often that she called upon the realm, but when she did, it would answer.

As it did now.

Carefully, golden dust trailing from her paws, she coaxed the twig to grow. It began to sprout and duplicate, turning into a sapling, and then into a tree. Roots grew from broken wood and delved deep into the rich soil. She stroked the young tree’s trunk and whispered to it, and it stretched upwards, wreathed in a golden shimmer of the princess’ magic. It grew leaves that unfurled from twigs that thickened into limbs as it speared upwards. The branches pierced the canopy and soared above it until the tree, full-sized, stood gleaming in the center of the Wyrmwood. Where it had broken through, sunlight streamed down, illuminating the ground around the tree’s base.

This place was hers. It reminded her now a bit of the Golden Wood; she almost thought that it reminded her of home. But _this_ was her home, really, and she would ensure that it would be free.

She claimed this land. It belonged to her now; and as she knew this, she felt it respond in kind. This clearing, and reaching out into the Wyrmwood, tuned to her like an instrument and she could feel the creatures moving, feel the darkness recoil at her touch. This was her place. Nothing would enter here that did not have her permission.

With that, she let the power of Sylvach go and felt it ebb away; now she felt the exhaustion of that magic weighing in her body. She turned back to Círdnanh.

The fae Queen smiled at her. “You have learned so well, my daughter,” she said. She dismounted her horse and stepped over to where the princess stood next to the tree. “I feel your mark upon this place. This truly is your home; a new Golden Wood, one that will last long after we are gone.”

_It will always be the Wyrmwood, but it will be a bright Wyrmwood, its shadows deep and natural, its lights bold and clear. No more will this place suffer the tainted shade of the Empress’ touch._

It was safe to speak here; she knew that. It was her place. Nothing could see within the borders of this part of the Wyrmwood if she did not want it to.

“And so it shall be. But I do have advice for you.”

_Of course._

“If you seek to defeat the Empress, you will need to defeat Her armies as well. A strong as you are, you would still be overwhelmed by a force such as that. You must gather your own. We will keep the Empress distracted, but you must travel from here and find servants of your own, who will serve you long after we are gone. Perhaps common people; perhaps creatures of the land. That is up to you. You go where you will, and speak to the world. Make it your ally. You cannot hope to usurp the Empress without the people of the world behind you.”

_I understand._

“Good.” Círdnanh dipped her head down for a moment, crown gleaming in the sunlight cast from the break in the canopy. “Then it is with a heavy heart that I bid you farewell, my daughter. I know that I will not see you until we leave this world; there is one thing that I have left to teach you, but I cannot do it yet. That will come in time. I will call to you when we are leaving, but I will not see you until then.”

_I do not wish this parting upon anyone._

“And yet, it must happen.” The Queen pressed her forehead against her daughter’s face; the princess wished she could express her emotion visibly. “Goodbye, my child. Know at least that I will see you again.”

She stepped back. The princess turned slightly; Emhlys stood by his horse. He swallowed hard and stepped over to her, eyes glittering.

“So you have your own land now, sister,” he said, voice rough and scraping at the edges. “A place as beautiful as the Golden Wood itself.”

_It is but an echo of your far-distant home._

“And yet, were I to die in this world, I would want to be laid here and not there,” he said, squinting upwards at the sunlight. He blinked several times and looked back to her. “You will not return to the Palace.”

_I’m sorry,_ she told him, and meant it. _I didn’t want to leave. I will miss you so terribly. My heart will not be happy until it sees you and Cír again._

“Oh, stop it,” he said, managing to laugh through his tears, and looked to the side, scrubbing the corner of his eye with the heel of his hand. “You say so many things – “

_This is all true,_ she insisted, nudging him with one leg. _I am serious. I will see you one more time before you go, but until then, this is the last we will meet… unless you take pains to do otherwise._

He looked up sharply, startled. “What?”

_It is decreed by fate that I will not see Círdnanh again until you leave this world, but it is not so with you. If you should happen to ride south… my forest will welcome you._

Emhlys glanced over to Círdnanh, who was staring up at the tree, deliberately ignoring their conversation. He managed a weak smile and sniffed again. “Sister, I will visit you if I can. I will still miss you at home, at the Palace, but if I can come here and find you, then I am content.”

_Any time,_ she said. _If I am here, I will be overjoyed to see you._

“If you are here?”

_I must reach out to the world,_ she sighed. _Speak to people. Fight the Empress from within Her land._

“Of course. The darkness must be destroyed.”

_The darkness must be destroyed. But there would be nothing left to replace it without love and happiness, and for that, I need you._

Emhlys grinned, leaning against the princess’ leg. “I’ll be here,” he said. “With you, always. I promise.”

The fae returned to their home, leaving the princess behind.


	9. Wind on the Flames

It was frightening, to be alone here. She barely remembered the place from when she was a hatchling; and everything had changed in the years she had been gone. But she knew several things: that this forest was dangerous, that it rarely had rulers, and that she was the deadliest thing in it.

She began claiming it by expanding her territory. The clearing, the center of the Wyrmwood, was a good start. It was connected to even the furthest edges of the forest; but she couldn’t reach that far, not yet.

So she grew the clearing into something she wanted. She transformed several of the stunted trees there, raising them into golden behemoths that towered over the forest. Climbing one brought her for a moment back to the first glimpse of the sky she had caught as a hatchling; from the top of her trees, she could still see the black tendrils curling through the Wyrmwood… but she was pushing them back. They could not touch her small realm.

The thick canopy of the Wyrmwood was unnaturally dense. Where she reclaimed the land it thinned, letting light in; the deeper parts were still shrouded, but it was an ordinary darkness, a natural darkness. It belonged there.

Several days after the fae left, the golden princess saw bolts of lightning arcing up from the Golden Wood into the sky at night. They struck the clouds there, but no rain was falling. They were distant, so far away she could not hear them, but the storm worried her. She hoped the fae were alright.

She wove herself a web in her home clearing as well, in her new lair. She carefully attached golden silk to the edges and created a net in the canopy. She slept at night in a hammock of threads, or tucked against the broad trunk of the trees she had made; she was safe here.

One thing that worried her was that she did not know what was happening in the world now. The fae had been her eyes and ears, she realized; they’d told her when anything had happened, how the Empress had reacted, how the world was faring. Now she had no one watching.

That had to change. There were several small towns and villages near the edge of the Wyrmwood; surely they had information, or could be convinced to tell her things.

And humans were not the only things she could use. She found that the more territory she claimed, the more creatures she found.

Specifically, spiders.

The spiders of the Wyrmwood were far larger and smarter than the spiders in the rest of Sylvach. She knew this, and when she found them gathering at the edges of her clearing one morning, she asked them what they wanted.

They couldn’t speak in words, but she could read their minds. Who was she? they wondered. Why was she here?

_I am the Honeysuckle Princess,_ she replied, but they wouldn’t understand what that meant. They didn’t understand terms like princess or queen. _I am a golden spider._

Well, yes, that much was obvious. They wanted to know _who_ she was, not _what_ she was.

She pondered this for a time. _Who do you think I am?_

They could only come up with one word: Bright.

Interesting, the princess mused. _Then that is who I am,_ she said. _Bright._ But, no, that was too close to a name. She couldn’t take that. _The bright princess._

What was she here for? they wondered.

_This is my home. I was born here. I’m going to fight the darkness, and I’m starting here. Someday it will all be gone._

They debated on what the darkness was for a moment, unsure amongst themselves. She took hold of them and showed them the bear, showed them her turned siblings, showed them the serpent. _That is the darkness,_ she whispered to them. _When I am done with it, it will be no more. Will you help me?_

Help her? they asked. How? What did she want?

_I need to see what happens beyond this forest,_ she whispered to them. _I need to know what is happening in the world. I need to hear where the Empress moves her armies, how the people are reacting, and where there are battles. I need to hear anything of interest. Will you tell me these things? Will you listen and watch for me?_

Debate. She waited patiently while they decided amongst themselves, and finally, agreed.

_Good._

So she had spiders to watch for her. That much was good, but she still needed to get into the minds of the people – she had to speak with them, not simply watch. Her spiders could see them from a distance, or eavesdrop if they were particularly good at hiding, but they couldn’t speak with the people.

She would have to do that herself.

There was a small town at the edge of the Wyrmwood; she decided that she would start there. It was already familiar with the dangers of the forest, and it may have noticed the changes coming over the land.

But how to approach them? She certainly couldn’t walk up to their gates and ask to be let in. She would have to be more subtle than that.

Perhaps she could speak with them from afar.

Situated in her lair, she reached out and tried to see if she could stretch beyond the borders of the Wyrmwood, just a little bit. And she could, though it took a little of her power as well as the Wyrmwood’s.

There was a guard on the town’s wall, facing the edge of the forest. She was staring into the trees. The bright princess wondered whether to speak with her or draw her in.

She decided to try and pull the girl in, and touched ever so gently on the edge of her mind. Gentler than Caelmaeidre’s subtle touches on their sword, softer than Círdnanh’s guiding mind.

The forest was beautiful, she insisted. But there was something a little off. Perhaps she should examine it further, on her own. Perhaps she could go a few paces into the trees.

Just a few. Everyone on the wall would be able to see her. Nothing bad could happen.

The bright princess didn’t know what was said, but she knew that the guard spoke with her companions and left the wall, taking a sword and a shield with her. Each step brought her deeper under the princess’s control, and by the time she vanished into the forest, she didn’t even hear the rest of the guards calling her back.

_Come,_ the princess murmured, into the guard’s mind, in her own voice now. _You are in no danger._

She felt the surprise and fear from the guard at that.

_Don’t be afraid. Neither I nor anything in this forest will hurt you. You’re in my domain and you have safe passage here._

The girl tried to leave. The bright princess had no choice but to muddle her sense of direction until she stumbled, lost, into the center of the Wyrmwood.

“What is this?!” she cried, seeing the silk and the giant trees. “What devilry – “

_Hush,_ the princess said, creeping down the trunk of one of the trees. _This is my handiwork, and it is safe and good. Do not fear me._

The guard was definitely frightened. She was frozen in place, staring at the princess through wide green eyes.

_I do not mean to hurt you. I only wish to speak, and I could not leave the forest or you would attack me._

“You – you _speak_,” the guard whispered, trembling. “What _are_ you?!”

_I am the bright princess of the Wyrmwood,_ the princess said. She touched the guard’s mind; there was no hint of the Empress’ shadow. _I rule this place, and I fight the darkness. I am driving it out of my forest, and then I will drive it out of my world._

“The darkness?”

_Not the gloom of night or the comforting shade of trees from the sun. I speak of the shadows that curl over the Wyrmwood, the dark beasts that kill what they wound. You know the darkness. It is in your lives as well as mine._ She gave the guard a brief flash of an image, the view from the highest trees in the wood of the dark tendrils of shadow that curled through the forest. _I will kill them and protect what I can._

“You’re…” the guard was having trouble, but she managed to move herself enough to draw her sword. “But you – you’re a creature of the Wyrmwood, dangerous, and – “

_Dangerous, yes, but not to you._ The princess prepared a shield, in case the guard attacked. _I am your ally. I wish to help you. I want to protect you, and others, and drive the Blue Empress off her throne._

At that, the girl sat down hard on the ground. “This isn’t happening,” she muttered.

The princess paused. Perhaps she had put too much stress on this small human and broken her.

“I just wanted to do something interesting,” the girl muttered. “This is not what I meant.”

_What is your name?_

The girl looked up, frowning. “Myrrah,” she said, after a moment. “Why?”

_I was curious._

“…who _are_ you? Really?”

_I am the bright princess._

“But… that’s not a name.”

The princess settled her big body backwards into a low, comfortable crouch. _I have no name,_ she said. _I never did._

“That’s ridiculous. Everyone has a name.”

_Not I._

Myrrah frowned at the forest floor, sword still dangling from her hand. “Why not?”

_The Blue Empress has no name. It was determined that I would forgo one as well, so that I may combat her more effectively._

“You really mean that, don’t you?” Myrrah murmured. “You – whatever you are – you want to fight the – the Empress.” She shivered as she said the name. “You want to _fight_ the _Empress_.”

_Yes. It is my task in life._

“What, your destiny?”

The princess paused. _I suppose have made it my destiny. It may not have been, but it is now._

“You made your own destiny.” A flat statement.

_Yes._

Myrrah shook her head. “Can I go? I don’t want any part in this.”

That stung, just a bit. _I brought you here for a reason,_ the princess said, mildly annoyed. _I need information._

“What?”

_I need information,_ the princess repeated. _From servants beyond what I have now. They cannot speak to people. I need humans who will report to me, tell me about wars, about movement, about the Empress._

“You… I don’t know what you’re asking.”

_Would your village tell me these things?_

Myrrah frowned, trying to understand. “You… you want us to… spy for you?”

That didn’t seem like the right word. _Not quite. I just want to know what you know._

“Why?”

_To know my enemy’s plans._

“Your enemy, The Empress.”

_Yes._

“And how do you expect us to tell you these things?”

_Come into the forest and speak with me._

“I don’t think I should be the one negotiating this,” Myrrah muttered. “What would we get in return?”

_Protection. I will ensure your village is not harmed by dark beasts. I will ensure that it is not harmed by storm or fire or flood._

Myrrah paused. “That’s pretty nice,” she said. “I have to admit that. We’ve had fires ruin the town twice since the plains got drier.”

The bright princess remained where she was, perfectly still, awaiting an answer.

“I mean. I can’t speak for everyone,” Myrrah said, “but I can say that I’ll try and tell you things. If I know them. I can have my friends tell me things, and I’ll tell them to you.”

_That will do. I may not always be here; if I leave, I will notify you first._

“Uh, sure,” Myrrah said. She swallowed, still nervous in the presence of a giant spider. “Can I go home now?”

_Of course._

The guard scrambled up and hurried out of the clearing. The princess kept an eye on her as she picked her way through the forest back to the town, where the other guards called to her. What she said, the princess didn’t know, but she managed to calm them.

Myrrah kept her end of the promise; within a few weeks, she came back, and told the bright princess of the Empress’ decrees and plans and armies, or what she knew of it.

The Empress was moving armies from the east to the west, and northwards, towards the mountains. Directly towards the Golden Wood… and she was not paying any attention to the Wyrmwood. The bright princess’ power growing in the dark forest went unnoticed for now.

_Thank you, mother,_ she whispered to Círdnanh.

“What’s north?” Myrrah asked, as the bright princess absorbed the information.

_My family,_ she said. _The fae people._

“I don’t believe that,” Myrrah said flatly. “The fae people are a myth.”

The princess was struck by the bold confidence of that statement. _I… can assure you that they are not,_ she managed, recovering. _They raised me. I lived with them for many years._

“But… there’s nothing there. Nothing up there.”

_The Golden Wood is there,_ the princess explained. _Their home. They have lived there for hundreds, thousands of years. It is going to war. If you do not believe in the fae now, perhaps you will when they begin to fight in earnest._

“They’re fighting the Empress too?!”

_Yes._

Myrrah was silent for a moment. “Maybe this time someone besides her will win,” she said quietly.

_What does that mean?_

She looked up, distressed. “We’ve tried to fight her before,” she said. “The people, I mean. But she’s just so strong. My father was a rebel, and his father before him, and they were both cut down by her armies. He told me when I was young that he saw her once. She was a terrible, beautiful person, with eyes like stars, and that she had but to look at someone and they would die.”

That was intriguing. The princess filed that away in her mind; to every rumor there was an inkling of truth, and she wanted to know which part of that story was the inkling.

But most of all, she had learned that the people did not like the Empress.

The fae hadn’t. But the fact that the people of the land also hated her was new to the princess, and very welcome. A people angered were a people the princess could have on her side. They were a people who would be willing to fight for her, when the time came for her to face the Empress.

She just had to speak with them all. She had to go to them, whisper thoughts of alliances in their minds, show them that she was willing to protect them. And if she could, they would be with her.

Myrrah peered up at her face. “What are you thinking?” she asked. “Well, I assume you’re thinking. I can’t tell. You don’t really have expressions.”

_I am thinking about your people,_ the princess answered honestly. _I will have to leave this forest. I will travel and find others who are downtrodden, who wish to see the Empress destroyed. Those who are hurt by the darkness. Those who wish to protect others._

“You want to start another rebellion.” To the princess’ surprise, Myrrah spat on the ground, disgusted. “Yeah, sure, that’s what we need. More fighting. More death.”

_No, you do not understand – _

“I understand that you want to ‘destroy the darkness’ or whatever, but you do realize these people have lives, right? It’s not that easy.”

The princess was silent.

“You can’t just say hey, let’s make a rebellion, and then do it. You can’t just tell people to stop farming and living and go off to fight a pointless battle where they all get killed.” Myrrah crossed her arms and stared up at the princess, fuming. “Because they will. They’ll all die, and nothing will have changed. We’re never going to beat her.”

_I can beat her._

“Oh, and you know that? For sure?” Myrrah laughed, a short bark that sounded more like a cough. “Did you practice battle her? Do you know from training with the magical fae people that you can fight her? I doubt it.”

This was, without a doubt, the most unnerving experience the bright princess had ever had. She subsided. She hadn’t expected this from someone – this belief that they were completely helpless under the Empress’ rule. She hadn’t expected them to give up before anything had started.

But then again, she had only ever been with the fae, not the people of the land. And if Myrrah’s father and grandfather had both been in rebellions, there had to have been more before that. And if they always failed, perhaps it made sense for her to be so hopeless. For her to believe that they would never be free. Myrrah was right that the princess did not understand the situation fully, and couldn’t. She wasn’t part of a people who had been oppressed for hundreds of years.

_What, then,_ she said carefully, _would you suggest that I do?_

Myrrah opened her mouth and shut it again.

_I will not abandon my quest. I will defeat the darkness. But I cannot do it alone. I do not know how to lead a rebellion. I cannot teach people to fight. You are right; I do not know their minds, what they think, what they feel. How to help them most. What would you have me do?_

“What would –“ Myrrah sputtered and went quiet again.

Something pinged in the princess’ mind. She turned sharply and looked up; someone had entered her forest.

Someone familiar.

_I have hope for you,_ she said suddenly, delighted. _I have someone that you should meet. Stay a moment, and wait._

“…what?”

_Come quickly,_ she called to the newcomer. _I am trying to convince a young human girl to not give up hope, and I think you will be able to aid me in that._

She felt the speed of the rider double. She cleared the forest in his path.

The crystalline hoofbeats echoed before he entered the clearing. Myrrah turned, brow furrowed, at the sound; she did not recognize it, or the rider, but the princess did.

_Em!_ she skittered down the tree and onto the ground, at his side in a flash. Myrrah flinched with the speed of her movement. _Emhlys, hello!_

“Hello, dear sister,” he laughed, swinging down off of Spire’s back. She bumped her head against him and he hugged her as best he could. “What a lovely clearing you’ve made since I was last here!”

_Thank you,_ she replied, genuinely happy. _I’m making my home more beautiful._

“What in the hells is that,” Myrrah said.

Emhlys turned towards her, surprised. “Oh? Who’s this?”

_A young girl from a nearby village,_ the princess explained. _Her name is Myrrah and she is a guard and a descendent of rebels._

Myrrah went red. “Don’t say – !”

“Don’t say what?” Emhlys drawled, tipping his head to the side. “Don’t say you’re a child of rebels? Mortal girl, I am a rebel on my own, and the son of the fae Queen. You are safe in my presence.”

The princess noticed that he now wore a crown; a circlet that dipped in the front to let a simple sunstone glimmer on his forehead, and rose in the back in small antlers. Nothing like the Queen’s, but still visible.

_You’ve got your own crown now,_ she stated.

“I know,” Emhlys sighed, rolling his eyes. “Mother insisted that I wear it. Something about looking like a real warrior, or some nonsense.”

_She’s probably right, you know. For the rare instances when you’re not swinging your sword around proclaiming your prowess in battle, people need to know that you’re a fighter._

“Of course she is, and hey, there’s no call for that…”

The princess laughed. _Well, it suits you. You look very beautiful in it._

“Why, thank you!”

Myrrah stared at him. “You’re a fae.”

“That I am,” he replied, smiling. “Emhlys, the Foxglove Prince.” He gave her a light bow, and she stared at him, startled.

“You’re real,” she managed.

Emhlys looked back to the princess. “You didn’t tell your new friend about your favorite brother?” he asked, mock wounded. “I am _hurt_.”

_You are my only brother._

“That doesn’t mean I’m not your favorite.”

_That changes based on what you’ve done recently. And I did, but she didn’t believe me._

“Ah. Well, I suppose seeing is believing.” He strode over to her. He was easily a half meter taller than her, and sauntered to a halt, one hand on his sword hilt and the other stretched out by his side, a showy proclamation. “Are you convinced?”

Myrrah said nothing.

_Don’t be rude,_ the princess reminded him. _Apparently, most humans don’t believe in you. Strange, really._

“Well, they’re about to get quite the shock,” Emhlys said. “Because we have begun the war.”

_So you have…_

“There is fighting to the north. My troops are still there; we’re easily dispatching the skirmish groups the Empress sends for us. But she won’t keep doing that forever, and at some point she’ll send a greater army.”

_Aren’t you needed there, then?_

“No,” Emhlys said. “Mother said I was needed here.”

_How does she know? How does she always know?_ the princess asked, astonished. _Did she scry me?_

“Perhaps.” Emhlys shrugged. “Did you need me for something?”

_I believe so._ The princess turned to Myrrah. _Would people follow my brother?_

Myrrah broke herself out of her trance. “Wh – ah – yeah, I think they… I think they would. I’ve never seen anything like you. You glow.”

“Do I?” Emhlys glanced down at himself.

“You’re… pure, maybe?”

“Ah. That makes sense.” He nodded, tapping one finger on his chin. “The benefits of living in the Golden Wood instead of out in the Empress’ lands.”

_People will follow me if they see I have the fae behind me,_ the princess whispered to Emhlys privately. _They would not otherwise. But I already have an army – well, I don’t have it, but you’re technically on my side. That’s enough. They can’t fight well, but could you teach them? Ordinary people?_

Emhlys paused, and nodded slowly. “I could,” he said. “It would take some time, but…”

Myrrah frowned, confused; the princess hadn’t spoken to her, only to Emhlys. “Could what?”

“I could teach your people to fight,” Emhlys answered, and drew his sword. The glittering blade shone in the sunlight that poured through into the clearing. He half-smiled and turned the blade over. “This blade has slain many dark beasts, and some soldiers of the Empress. I feel that it will slay many more.”

For a moment, they stood there in silence; the princess, golden and mirrored bulk shimmering gently in the shade; Emhlys, radiant fae prince with his sword glittering in the sun; and Myrrah, watching them.

“I could follow you,” she said clearly.

Emhlys looked over, eyebrows raised. “I’ll lead you, if you want,” he said. “But you must understand: we have one purpose.”

“…?”

“We clear her path to the Empress.” Emhlys pointed towards the princess. “That’s it. We need to make sure she can get to her enemy.”

“I…” Myrrah paused. “You mean, we don’t attack Her?”

“Stars above, no!” Emhlys laughed. “_I_ certainly don’t fancy a tangle with Her, and neither should you. No, that part of the plan is up to my sister. But, Honeysuckle Princess, if you will, you have to do the recruiting. I’ll be with you, but your people have to know who they’re following.”

_I know._ The princess turned to Myrrah. _You come from a family of renegades._

Myrrah opened her mouth to disagree, then closed it again. “Yes,” she admitted. “I do.”

_You know about rebellions?_

“A bit, yeah…”

_Help us lead this one._ The bright princess stepped forward, staring deep into Myrrah’s eyes. _Help us lead this. If we can defeat the army, I can defeat the Empress; it is my purpose in life, and I will be able to do it._

Myrrah glanced back and forth between Emhlys and the princess, chewing her lip. Finally she took a deep breath and let it out, then said, “What do you want me to do?”


	10. A Glimpse of Night

The bright princess left the Wyrmwood a day later, following Myrrah. Emhlys was at her side; Myrrah walked towards her town, head held high, but nervous.

_Do not be afraid. We are with you._

Myrrah glanced behind her, but saw nothing. That was because the princess had shielded herself and Emhlys from sight, hiding them even in broad daylight from the watchful eyes of the Empress’ creatures.

“Right.” She kept going forwards.

The princess watched her as she neared the town. She entered through the main gates; they closed, and Emhlys and the princess waited.

“Are you sure this is the right thing to do?” Emhlys whispered, seated on Spire next to the princess.

_No,_ she replied. _But we have to start somewhere._

“Fair enough.”

The gates opened again, and remained open. Myrrah appeared above them, face pinched; there was shouting in the background. “Hurry,” she called.

The princess stepped through, into the town. Emhlys went with her, and the gates closed behind them.

She had never felt trapped before, save for when the serpent had been squeezing her to death. Now she felt trapped within these wooden walls, flimsy as they were. It was unusual and unnerving.

Myrrah hopped down off the wall, landing beside her. “They’re going to come soon,” she muttered. “Nobody’s supposed to open the gates without permission.”

_Good. Let them come._

The bright princess reached out with her mind and subtly pulled on every person in the area, calling them to her. Not enough that they would know, but enough to bring them.

And they gathered, around the square. None of them entered close enough to touch her, but they gathered. What they saw was Myrrah seated on the stones, inert for the moment.

When the crowd grew large enough to make her nervous, the bright princess asked, _Is this all of them?_

“No,” Myrrah said. “But it’s most of them. It’s enough to make a difference.”

There was a slight stirring in the gathered villagers. Who was Myrrah talking to, they wondered?

_Very well._ The princess paused. _Should you begin?_

“Friends,” Myrrah started, concentrating. “enemies, associates, neighbors. All of you I have known since I was a child. All of you know me.”

Silence.

“You know who I am. You know who my family was. And still is, in me.”

People muttered amongst themselves. Myrrah looked up now, brilliance burning deep in her green eyes.

“I am the daughter of a rebel. I lost my mother to the darklings. I want nothing more than freedom, for all of us. Before now, I have been unable to achieve anything. I’m too small. I’m just one person.”

She stood and began to pace slowly back and forth, gesturing as she spoke.

“I’m a lone girl. One voice in a sea of darkness. Nothing on my side but other lost people.”

She stopped, turning her back on the bright princess and facing her people.

“Not anymore.”

The bright princess encouraged her silently, pushing on her emotions; she brought forth righteousness and anger and conviction, suppressed fear and uncertainty and nervousness.

“I believe,” Myrrah said, “that we can fight for our freedom now. I believe that we can combat the darklings.” She paused, relying on the bright princess to protect her town from her next statement.

_Go on,_ the princess urged her, silently. _You are safe._

“I believe we can fight the Blue Empress.”

“Hush!” snapped someone in the crowd. “You cannot say that! You cannot say Her name!”

“She will hear,” someone else murmured, off to the left. “She will know. She’ll kill us all.”

Myrrah’s fear spiked. The princess pushed it down and bolstered her with a steady confidence, going so far as to creep forwards and press one leg against her back, holding her up. She could feel through the girl’s body the frantic, fluttering beat of her heart, slowing to normal as the princess fed her surety.

Myrrah shook her head. “No,” she said. “She won’t hear us. She can’t.”

“She hears everything,” whispered someone in front. “Nothing escapes Her notice.”

“She sees all.”

Myrrah folded her arms. “She cannot hear us now. I guarantee it. She cannot see us; she is preoccupied with other matters. And that is why we must rally now.”

“Myrrah, you don’t understand,” a man in front said, stepping forwards. “We _can’t_ fight her. We just can’t. She’s killed everyone who’s ever tried. There’s been so much death; we can’t do this anymore.”

“We aren’t alone this time,” Myrrah argued back. “Before, it’s been just us against the darkness. Now we stand in the company of greater things.”

Silence.

_Good,_ the princess murmured. This was… admittedly a bit overdramatic – and Emhlys had told her so, multiple times – but sometimes, that’s what was required.

“We are not alone. Do you understand me? We are not alone! Our fight is ours, but it belongs to the whole world, and the world will help us.”

“Myrrah, what are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about allies,” Myrrah snapped, unfolding her arms and stepping forward, anger rising. The princess let it. “I’m talking about other people who are facing the same oppression as us, I’m talking about powerful beings who want the Empress destroyed.”

“Destroyed!” The man shook his head, fear written across his features. “Myrrah, you will bring death upon us with these words.”

“No.” Myrrah shook her head. “I will not.”

“And how can you be so sure?”

“She cannot hear us. We are shielded.”

“By what?”

Myrrah took a breath. “An ally,” she said.

“What ally?”

_You’ve done well,_ the princess whispered. _It is now our turn._

She paused, taking in a breath. Myrrah said nothing, shaking slightly.

_I am your ally,_ the bright princess said, voice humming, to the assembled crowd. _I am with you. I am protecting you now, and I will protect you always if you stand by me. Do not be afraid; you are safe with me._ She dropped the invisibility and appeared in a golden shimmer behind Myrrah, and she _felt_ the assembled people move back in shock.

_I am your ally,_ she said again, gripping each individual and speaking directly to them. _I am the Bright Princess of the Wyrmwood, and I am here to bring peace to this world. I am here to fight against the Blue Empress, to destroy her and free Sylvach from her control._

Startled murmurs gave way to silence.

The bright princess didn’t move. _I cannot do this alone. I will need your help. But I can do it._

The man who had stepped forwards had gone white at the sight of the bright princess. “What _is_ this?!” he managed, terrified.

_I am not your enemy,_ the bright princess murmured, and took a step forwards. She stood at Myrrah’s side, above her, sheltering her underneath one big yellow-green leg. _I am your friend. I want to help you. I can protect you; I can show you how to fight. With your help, and the help of the people in this land, I am certain I can defeat the Blue Empress._

“How?”

The bright princess took in a long breath, air hissing through her spiricles. She let it out and allowed the shield over the town to shimmer with bright gold, a radiant light that cast its own shimmers on the ground. _I am a daughter of the land itself,_ she said. _I am a wielder of my own magic, and that of the Sylvach. I am part of this world, and it is part of me. I will be able to fight and defeat her._

Most of the assembled people seemed to be impressed or awed by this, but the man maintained a look of skepticism. “How do we know that?” he said, surprisingly stoic now that he had composed himself. “Have you fought her before?”

_Some things,_ the princess murmured, _require a bit of belief._

“So you don’t know.”

_Oh, I do._ She spoke with absolute conviction. _I am not yet ready. But when I am, I will destroy Her without pause. Until then, I need to gather an army._

“Well, I won’t be part of it,” spat the man. “It’s got nobody in it.”

_Untrue. The fae have begun the war, in the north._

The man paused, raising one eyebrow. “The _fae._”

_Yes._

“The mythical people. Now we’re supposed to seek death because of fairy tales?”

_Do your eyes deceive you now?_ the princess retorted, shifting lightly in case she was blocking Emhlys from view. _The Foxglove Prince stands before you now, willing to help you become worthy opponents for the Blue Empress’ dark beasts and soldiers._

As soon as she mentioned him, people seemed to notice Emhlys. He sat regally astride Spire, maintaining an expression of calm, comfortable detachment.

“Oh,” he said out loud to her. “Is it my turn?”

_If you wish to speak, then do so, brother mine._

Emhlys urged his mount forwards. Spire’s hooves on the cobblestones rang like bells as Emhlys began to direct her back and forth across the cobbles in front of the princess. “Hello, hello,” he called to the people, smiling gently. “I am Emhlys, the Foxglove Prince, and I am here to teach you how to fight, if you would agree to it. I am here on behalf of my sister, the Honeysuckle Princess of the Golden Wood, the Bright Princess of the Wyrmwood, the voice and protector of Sylvach.”

That was a new one.

“So, will you accept her protection, her help, and be in service to her?” He wheeled Spire around and drew his sword as he did so; it glimmered in the light. “You needn’t fear the Empress’ retribution; the princess is shielding us from all who would eavesdrop on this little gathering. Additionally, she is rather preoccupied with my brethren in the north, who have repelled several assaults and are launching their own attacks on Her forces.”

He paused.

_The fae stand with you,_ the princess murmured, to the villagers. _And I stand with you. But will you stand with me?_

Silence.

Myrrah folded her arms. “I choose to stand with her,” she announced. “Those of you who wish to be something more than another nameless death in Her tyrannical reign, come with me. The rest of you can stay where you are.”

People around murmured to themselves. Emhlys twirled the sword in one hand, searching the crowd. The bright princess reached out to them and began to push on their emotions, smoothing away fear, bringing up hope and longing, pulling them away from disbelief and dismissal.

After a long, tense moment, a woman from the side of the crowd hurried forwards. She said nothing, but she ventured as close to the bright princess as she dared and stood there, flushed with nervousness but determined. She was followed by two friends, and slowly the crowd began to move, trickling in in streams of people who stepped up to stand by the bright princess.

Emhlys was forced to move back and still Spire, lest he accidentally harm someone. The princess sat there, perfectly still. She was exhilarated; this had worked better than she’d thought it would, and she didn’t want to ruin the moment.

The crowd surrounded her, gathering by her side until there were only a few people left. The man was one of them, still staring at the princess. She stared back, and so did the village around her. Finally, he sighed and shook his head, then stepped forwards and joined her.

The bright princess felt a bright glow of warmth in her heart. _Thank you,_ she said, genuinely touched. _I will not let you down. I will not fail you. I will protect you from the forest, from the land, from the Empress. I will succeed for you._

She promised this, and knew that she had to make it true.

The village was under her protection now. She spun a shield around it that would last even when she was gone, and kept it alive with the power of Sylvach below her; a golden dome that protected those within from darkness, from fire, from invaders. The princess ensured that the village was free from dark beasts before sealing it; the people could come and go, and wind and rain would pass through, but disaster would not strike this place under her protection.

This was a kind of protection she hadn’t even given the Wyrmwood. The Wyrmwood was powerful; it was overrun, filled with little beasts and shades that she could not destroy, even as she maintained her borders. She would not be able to free it fully until the Empress was vanquished.

Next, she would have to garner further support from nearby villages. She had to spread her influence, take towns, rally the people behind her.

But the man in the town – the one who had questioned her – had been right. She did not know if she could fight the Empress. She had only ever fought dark beasts, and those she had destroyed.

She did not know how to test herself.

She did not get to decide.

The Blue Empress did not always stay in Her capital city in the sea. It was uncommon, but significant; She would venture forth to personally deal with any issues that needed Her special attention.

The bright princess did not want to cause any of these issues. That would entail many deaths; the Empress preferred to cull pockets of rebellion before they could flower, and when She went to deal with something, it died. But the bright princess learned that the Empress was already going to investigate the northern wood personally – the forest near the Golden Wood, which was still hidden from Her sight.

The bright princess sped north faster than the Empress did, and made it in time to warn the guards that the Empress was approaching.

The journey was harrowing; as she went, she could feel that deep emptiness inside her growing stronger, but she pushed it away and tried to run faster. The guards at the edge of the Golden Wood saw her approach and took her message instantly to Círdnanh; the bright princess hid herself at the edge of the forest itself.

A barrier went up, at the edge of the greater forest. Evidently Círdnanh had seen this coming, and was guarding more than the Golden Wood. The River Palace was precious, filled with thousands of fae who had to be protected. Círdnanh wanted to keep them safe.

The Blue Empress approached over the plains, and though the bright princess couldn’t see Her, she could feel Her. The land reacted to Her presence, plants shrinking back, the sky roiling in angry clouds – no joyful storms accompanied the Empress as she went.

No, nothing around her was joyful. As she came closer, the wind grew cold and all sounds of animals ceased. The grass darkened and wilted under the wheels of a gray carriage pulled by two black horses. The bright princess concentrated all of her power in making herself impossible to detect; she hid herself from all sight and buried her own magic underneath layers of concealment. She had to ensure that Empress would not notice her.

With the Empress came a wave of dark beasts and darklings in a long line beside the carriage – the bright princess had learned the word from the villagers. Darklings were soldiers of the Empress, humans who had been turned or had willingly gone to her service. Not simply dark-touched, but those that embraced the Empress’ touch. They were not human, not anymore. They were shadowy creatures that blurred when they moved and stared out of an indistinct face with pools of deep blue light.

They came over the grass and where they went the world died.

The light faded around the Blue Empress; it went clear and watery, as if She were drawing it away. Perhaps She was, draining the light as She did the land; the bright princess did not know. But the closer She came, the more the bright princess felt that yawning darkness in her own heart stretch, until it threatened to consume her.

_No,_ she whispered to herself. _I will not give in. I will not surrender._

The sky itself darkened. The world grew cold as the light faded away; everything seemed at once very hazy and perfectly defined. It was hard to see in this gathering darkness, but every line was crystal clear. The Empress’ carriage was the clearest thing of all – it drew the princess’ eyes to it, seeming almost to pull the image of the world out of shape.

It came up to the barrier, the great golden wall that protected the forest, and stopped. The side door opened, and the Empress exited.

When she touched the ground, the bright princess felt her emotions die away, replaced by a dead nothingness. The sunlight, already weak, almost went out. It was as if a shadow had been cast upon the world; darkness fell like a wall. The sun was hidden behind storm clouds that moved unnaturally, roiling in disturbed swirls. The wind seemed to be fighting itself.

The Empress was in the form of a veiled woman in a black gown. She took a few steps forward past the carriage and walked right up to the wall, staring at it. The bright princess could not see Her face.

Her armies crowded up against the barriers. Dark beasts sniffed at it or clawed; darklings waited patiently, soldiers gripped their weapons.

She reached up and touched the barrier gently, running Her fingers across its smooth surface. It didn’t repel Her like it did with dark beasts. She seemed unaffected by it. The bright princess shuddered to feel Her influence on the world.

It got very abruptly much worse. There was a sensation like she was tipping forwards and falling into a pit or off a cliff; like she was dropping and couldn’t catch herself. She clung to the tree for dear life, panic freezing her in place; the entire world was falling in towards the Empress, sliding down a steep slope to disappear into her dark depths. She wanted to scrabble to hang onto something, anything, but she was too afraid to move; and a tiny part of her told her that if she moved, the Empress might see her.

And then the barrier shattered.

The Empress didn’t do anything. She simply stood there, hand on the barrier, and destroyed it without so much as a word or movement. The falling feeling ceased as soon as it broke and the world sprang back to normal, but the golden wall was gone.

The Empress’ army charged forwards into the trees, howling as they went. The Empress Herself remained where She was and slowly lowered her arm to clasp her hands in front of her. The bright princess got the impression that She was smiling.

Then She turned around and left. The army split in half; half of it went inwards towards the Golden Wood and the River Palace, half accompanied Her back towards the capital. As She went, the world regained its color and light, but it was subdued. It knew that She had been here; Her presence would not simply fade away. She had left Her mark on this place.

When She was far enough away that Her mind was no longer a danger, the golden princess crept down the tree, out of sight of the Empress’ army.

And then she fled. She could not enter the Wood; she had done what she could for them, and now she had to return to her home and protect it.

_Mother, please, be cautious,_ she whispered, as she slipped between the trees and out onto the plains. _Mother, I love you. Do not endanger yourself. The Empress will send her forces to destroy you but you must not fall. Please be careful. Please be safe._

Emhlys was not present when she returned to the Wyrmwood. She spent hours checking the borders of her land, inching them outwards, claiming more of the forest as her own. The dark creatures were in her territory, but there weren’t many; they fled from her influence like vermin from a flame, hiding until she’d passed by.

He came back at the end of the day, with a few bruises from demonstrating in practice fights how to use a sword. “Sister,” he said, as he entered the lair clearing. “You’ve been gone. Where did you go?”

_The Golden Wood has been invaded._

Emhlys went silence. His face fell; fear clouded his features, but she saw him close his eyes and bring himself back in seconds. “Were you there?”

_The Empress broke the barrier. The outer barrier. I do think that the inner wall and the River Palace still hold safe._

“Good. What of my mother?”

_I do not know. I did not speak to her. I did not have time. I could not give away my presence._

Emhlys nodded. “I understand. I will return to the Wood to see if – “

_Emhlys, She was there._

He stopped.

The bright princess scuttled down the tree, still shaking from the feel of the Empress’ presence. _She was there. She barely moved and Her power shattered Círdnanh’s barrier without a movement, without a word. She touched it and it was gone. We were falling, all of us, She was drawing the world in to Her – _she broke off, struggling for words. _How can I fight Her? How could I ever fight that?_

Emhlys paused. “You can’t,” he said. “Not yet. But you will.”

_The entire world answered to Her. The grass, the sky, the earth. The forest. Everything. She pulled it all in to Her. She was everything. We were nothing. I can’t – I don’t understand._

“Neither do I. I cannot give you an answer for that. I have not experienced what you now know.”

There was a pause.

“But I think,” Emhlys said quietly, “that this means one very important thing.”

_The fae have to leave._


	11. Departure of the Fae

The summons came, as she knew they would. The fae could not hold off the Empress’ forces any longer. They could not distract Her without losing many more their own people, their non-combatants and families; they would not take that risk.

The bright princess understood. It was not for her to command them to sacrifice themselves for her. So they would be leaving, going home to their realm – back to Faolarghn, their home.

A rider came from the Golden Wood; a young fae on horseback, picking her way through the undergrowth and flinching at each movement in the greenery. The bright princess felt her enter the Wyrmwood and drew her to the center.

She entered the clearing and found the princess waiting for her.

“Honeysuckle Princess,” the fae said, dismounting and kneeling before her. “I bear a message from your mother, Círdnanh Queen of the Fae.”

_Speak, and I will listen._

“She requests your presence in the Golden Wood. The time has come for the fae to leave Sylvach; she begs that you be present for this departure and witness our passing from this world to return home. You must be present; she has one last skill to teach you, and she will do so at our exodus.”

The princess sighed, a long slow exhalation. _I will be there. I will require one day here to ensure the safety of my realm before I leave for a short time. Emhlys will accompany you back to the Wood. Take my response to my mother. Tell her I will be there soon._

The fae nodded. “She will be delighted to hear it,” she said.

This was fate, the princess knew. Círdnanh had said long ago that they would meet only once more in their lives, and that time was swiftly approaching.

She sent Emhlys back with the messenger, and spent the rest of the day and night securing her realm against danger. She warned the towns that she would be missing for a few days; Myrrah rolled her eyes but said she’d do her best to keep people calm if they couldn’t find their protector.

And then she went north.

She didn’t want the fae to leave. She didn’t want to lose Emhlys, to lose Círdnanh. Her family. Círdnanh she knew she would never see again after this, and that likely meant she would lose her beloved brother as well.

The grasses let her pass too easily; she felt Círdnanh’s presence out on the plains near the Wood. The wind did not hinder her passage. She wished that it would, that the world itself would beg the fae to stay here.

But it did not, and she saw the party of shimmering riders amongst the grasses draw ever nearer until they were in front of her.

Círdnanh stood with her hands tucked into her sleeves, waiting. Her crown rose in branching antlers behind her head, each tip adorned with a dancing light like a candle’s flame. Her dark eyes were kind and sorrowful.

“My daughter,” she said, as the bright princess came to a halt. “It brings me joy to see you again.”

_And yet I am filled with sorrow that it will never be so again after this,_ the princess replied.

“Do not be sad. We go to our home now, to be in a realm where we are not plagued by the Empress’ fury. Come. We will enter the Wood for the last time; after we are gone, its magic will fade until the last vestiges of our presence have left. The only remainder of us will be in your Wyrmwood to the south. The new Golden Wood.”

Círdnanh turned; the riders went with her, and they stepped from the plains into the forest, and from there to the Golden Wood, for the last time.

The forest seemed different already. It was anticipating the disappearance of the fae; it felt that they would be leaving, and it was already fading from its golden glory to an ordinary woodland.

They passed through the forest, along the pathway that the bright princess had been carried along so long ago. She now stepped on the ground on her own; the hooves of the horses rang dully around her, their shimmering tones deadened by the fallen leaves.

_It is the autumn of the world now that you are leaving,_ the bright princess noted.

“But spring will come,” Círdnanh countered, stepping over a tree root. “Do not sorrow for us.”

_I am selfish. I sorrow for myself to lose you._

“Perhaps someday we will meet again.”

_Perhaps._ The princess paused. _You cannot see that far into the future?_

Círdnanh shook her head. “I cannot. But that is because the future that far is very changeable.”

_Changeable?_

“Actions can alter the flow of fate. The decisions you make will determine whether or not you and I will meet again. I see many futures; only one of them will come true, but I do not know which one.”

The bright princess was silent.

The River Palace came into view. The golden light shimmered on the gray tree trunks, but the halls were empty. The fae were elsewhere. They were gathering to leave.

The home the bright princess had known for so long was still and silent. The weapons were gone from the armories; the clothing and possessions from all the rooms. The furniture had been cleaned and carefully set aside, for whoever next found this place and dwelt here. The fae were not taking many things with them.

After so many years alive, the Palace was now frozen and unchanging, as if caught in time, or outside of it. The princess wished she did not have to see this.

Círdnanh led the escort through the Palace to the throne room. One wall of it had been pulled apart; the trees that once formed a vague barrier through which wind had blown were now bent, warped out of the way. The floor of roots had been raised into a walkway.

There was a wide circle in that wall. The opposite wall, across the river, had been removed entirely; beyond it, the host of fae gathered, waiting silently.

With a sigh, Círdnanh came to a halt at the bottom of the walkway. She turned to her daughter. “Here is where I teach you the last skill that you will learn from me,” she said, and as she spoke it seemed that she was weary, weighed down by her crown, by her sadness. “Touch my mind.”

A rare occasion. The bright princess settled down into a crouch and reached out. Círdnanh let her defenses down, so that the princess could see what she did.

The Queen turned and faced the wall, then raised both hands. The air in the circle of tree trunks shimmered for a moment, then faded; then the shimmer returned, growing stronger until it rippled like sunlight on the riverbed.

The bright princess felt what she was doing, and it was far beyond anything she herself had done. Círdnanh was pulling at the world itself – and it was coming apart. There was something beyond even Sylvach, some type of barrier, and she was prying a hole in it.

That barrier. What did it protect? What was beyond it?

The other realms, the ones she’d learned about when she was young. The bright princess knew this, but she had not understood. Now she did. It was like the Golden Wood and its barrier; this was but one small part of a greater world, and there were more things beyond it. She was curious, but it seemed like far too large of a task for her to tackle.

And the Blue Empress did not hold sway over those worlds. Surely, that meant she was not as powerful as everyone assumed.

Círdnanh pulled the barrier open further. The glowing ripples in the air strengthened for a moment to a blinding white, then something snapped, and the Queen opened her eyes with a gasp. The air split open and broke and beyond it, through that break in the world, a far green place could be seen.

It was blurry, and it was difficult to understand, but it was there. And it felt like the fae did; like sunlight and water and a shimmering essence of life.

“There it is,” Círdnanh breathed, staring at it. “Home.”

_A beautiful place._

“What I remember of it, yes.” Círdnanh took a sharp breath. “Let us hope that it is still so, recovered after its destruction.”

She turned and beckoned, and the first fae streamed forwards and up the ramp to the portal. They passed through, and the bright princess felt them disappear from the world.

Círdnanh was holding the doorway open, but it was much easier than breaking it had been. The bright princess came back to herself and watched as the thousands of fae who had lived in Sylvach for so long left.

After several minutes – or perhaps it was hours, she could not tell – she felt someone approach behind her. Círdnanh turned, raising her eyebrows; the princess turned and found Emhlys standing there.

He was wearing full armor. Behind him were his scouts – Nal, and Sedh, and Caelmaeidre and Caeran and a hundred other fae who had ridden alongside the princess throughout her life.

“Queen,” Emhlys said, bowing.

“Prince,” Círdnanh replied, dipping her crowned head.

“I am here to inform you that I will not be leaving,” he told her.

There was a moment of silence.

_What?_ the bright princess finally managed, shocked. _Em, don’t you want to go home?_

“I do, I really do! I miss it so badly. I remember so little. But…” Emhlys turned to her, shaking his head. “I – I can’t. I can’t go, not while Sylvach is in such a state. Not while the people of this world need help.”

_That’s what I’m here for._

“Oh, and I’m going to just let you try and do everything on your own? You can’t teach people how to fight with a sword. I’m sorry, but you can’t. You don’t have the right shape for it.”

_I mean – you aren’t –you’re not wrong, but – _

Círdnanh interrupted. “Emhlys, you won’t be able to come home at all.”

“I will,” he said confidently. “The bright princess knows how to open the way. You taught her, right? You can replicate it?” he turned to the princess with the last question.

She probably could. _I think so,_ she said. _It’s a very unique process. I would need to practice, but I could do it eventually. Perhaps to more worlds than yours._

Emhlys turned to his mother. “See? I’ll be fine.”

She searched his face, worried. “I fear that it will not be so.”

“Mother,” Emhlys said, and touched the side of her face. “I _need _to stay. My scouts are staying with me; we cannot leave Sylvach like this. It’s for the best to take our people home, but some of us will remain here, to help. It’s – it’s _wrong_ to leave now, when we can stay. Not our people. Our people are not all warriors. They do not want to live a life of battle. But we are.” He gestured to his scouts. “We will do that for this world, and once this fight is done, we can come home.”

_Emhlys._ The princess broke in. _You endanger yourself. But I understand what you are doing. I would be… honored, to have you stay. To help with my fight. You’re right; I cannot do this on my own. And I think that trying to do so would be foolishness. A battle without allies is a battle lost before you step onto the field. I know that I would be weaker without you. I will not tell you to go, but I will not ask you to stay._

“I offer to stay.”

_Then I accept your offer. I will build you a new palace, in the Wyrmwood, a place to stay until the fight is done. Then I will weave you a pathway home through the veils on the edge of the world and all will be well._

Círdnanh smiled, sadly. “This is your decision,” she said. “The flow of fate will always change.”

_This is not what you foresaw?_

“I saw it, yes,” Círdnanh said, tipping her chin up slightly as she thought. “But I did not think that this would be the path that we took. Clearly, I underestimated your devotion to one another.”

Emhlys grinned, tipping his head to the side a bit. “Mother, you know we would do anything for each other.”

“I chose my daughter well, then.” Círdnanh stepped forward, eyes searching Emhlys’ face. “So it seems that I am the only one who will lose you.”

That stung, and the princess flinched. _Mother…!_

She laughed, shaking her head. “I did not mean it as an insult. I think that perhaps this will not be our last meeting, then, daughter of mine.”

_The flow of fate can always change?_

“Yes. You understand.” She reached out and put her hands on the side of the princess’s head. “We will find each other. Not even time and fate, it seems, can stop you from seeking me out when you desire it.”

_For that, I am glad! May our meetings be in joy and freedom._

“And may peace be upon the worlds when they occur.” Círdnanh tipped her head forward and touched her forehead to the bright princess’s head; she stood for a moment, then stepped back. “You are truly a marvel, my daughter. My beautiful princess. I have one last direction for you: seek information on the Empress before you fight her. The more you know, the more powerful you will be. Have faith in yourself and do not hesitate. You will succeed in your task.”

_Thank you._

The Queen turned around and faced her son. “Emhlys, I understand your desire to stay. You will do what must be done.” The smile fell from her face. “But I do worry.”

“I will be _fine_,” Emhlys insisted, rolling his eyes. “Don’t fret so.”

“But I must!”

He shook his head and stepped forward. “I’ll come when this is over,” he promised. “I will come home. I love you.”

“I love you, my son,” Círdnanh replied, and hugged him. He was almost taller than she was, and she had to stretch to kiss him on the forehead. Emhlys grinned.

The Queen turned to face people again. The fae went onwards, bowing to the royals as they went, until the last one had stepped through the doorway. Círdnanh turned to her children and said nothing, only nodded her head, before she too stepped through the gate.

It remained, shimmering. The blue-robed figures moved away on the other side, and then without a sound it warped and popped out of existence, leaving only the emptiness behind.

The bright princess examined the hole where the gateway had been. It hummed with residual magic, but even that was fading fast.

_We must return to the Wyrmwood,_ she murmured, turning back to the scouts. _The Empress will feel that this place has changed. She will investigate, I think. We must not let Her know that any of you remain. We must let Her think she has won this fight._

Emhlys nodded. “We will ride out now,” he said. “Swift as the wind and silent as the night.”

Their horses’ hooves made no sounds when they ran. They passed like shadows out of the Wood and like wind over the plains, vanishing as their kind had.

The Golden Wood was already fading as the bright princess left, covering all traces of the scouts’ passage as she went. The silver trees were dropping their leaves; the pure light of the world there was dimming.

The autumn of the world had arrived, and with the summer’s departure, the fae were gone as well. The princess could only hope that they would survive the oncoming winter.

For the Empress would not give up her power easily, and now she was not distracted. Now she would be looking for the princess and trying to invade her lands. Now came the season of trickery and patience. Now came the careful planning and quiet gathering of strength.

She had to remind herself that she had allies. That there were people who stood with her in her cause. Her brother, her people, her world.

But leaving the Golden Wood with the trees dying slowly behind her, she had never felt more alone.


	12. The Shadow of Something Greater

_‘Seek information on the Empress’,_ the bright princess quoted, irate, and faced her gathered generals. _What does that mean?!_

“I cannot _possibly_ tell you,” Emhlys told her, sitting on a rock nearby and leaning on his sword.

The princess spun in place, trying to come up with an answer. Círdnanh had given her a task. How was she to accomplish? She did not know what Círdnanh had intended her to find, and she did know where to go to find it. _Why did she not tell me more?_

“She probably didn’t know any more.”

_Stop being so reasonable!_

“Normally I’m the one saying that.” Emhlys examined the fingernails of his left hand. “Peculiar.”

Information on the Empress. Like what? From where? Who would know? This was the first time she had really thought hard on the matter; all of her time since the exodus of the fae had been spent weaving a new home for the remaining fae riders and Emhlys. She had found one of the creeks that trickled through the Wyrmwood and altered the trees nearby, using the magic of the land to grow a safe haven for the fae and their mounts. It was no River Palace, but it was there.

Now that their dwelling-place was finished, however, she had time to ponder Círdnanh’s instruction, and she found that she had no idea what it meant.

Caelmaeidre was also seated nearby, looking over their longsword. “Perhaps,” they said, “the Queen meant for you to find someone who knows more about the Empress than she.”

_But who?_

Cael shrugged.

Myrrah, leaning against a tree, scratched the side of her chin. “How old is the Empress?” she said, after a moment.

The bright princess spun again to face her. _No one knows,_ she replied, and paused. _Or… well, that is a question, isn’t it? A very important question. If She came from a family of other… whatever She is, then perhaps they would have information on Her._

“If She came from some type of family, She has long since killed them,” Emhlys said, shaking his head dismissively. “She wouldn’t leave that sort of information lying around.”

_Hmm. Well…_. the bright princess paused. _Perhaps… what is She? That is something I have never been able to discern. Even after seeing her I do not know._

“She’s a shapeshifter,” Myrrah said. “The only one.”

_But what is a shapeshifter?_

“Some say the dragons were shapeshifters.” Emhlys shrugged. “But those all died thousands of years ago.”

_Dragons?_

“Not anymore.”

_No, I do not understand. What are those?_

“Gone, mostly.” Myrrah shrugged. “People say they were massive winged beasts that flew and breathed fire. They said they could change their shape.”

_Is it impossible for the Empress to be one of these beasts?_

“No,” Myrrah said, frowning, just as Emhlys said, “Yes.”

The bright princess turned to Emhlys. _It is?_

“Well, they were extinct about two thousand years ago, while the Empress has only been in power for about five hundred or so. I know she’s immortal, but it seems improbable.”

_I need to know. I need to know!_ Frustrated, the princess hunkered down and tucked her legs in. _Who would know this that I could ask? Where would this knowledge be stored, where would these words be written down?_

There was silence for a moment, and then Myrrah said, “Cloudfall.”

Emhlys glanced up, frowning. “What?”

“Cloudfall.”

_Cloudfall?_ Saying the word didn’t make it make any more sense. The princess shifted her body to face Myrrah again.

“Yes, Cloudfall.” Myrrah shrugged. “The, uh…. oh, what is it called? The floating bit of rock? Mite or something?”

“An earthmote?” Emhlys said, raising one eyebrow.

“Yes, that.” Myrrah nodded.

_What is an earthmote?_ the bright princess asked. The term was unfamiliar.

Emhlys shifted and laid his sword across his lap. “It’s a small floating island,” he explained. “there were a few in Faolarghn, but I didn’t think there were any here. And usually they’re quite small – enough for a few trees, perhaps, but not an entire library.”

_A floating island?_

“Mhm.” Myrrah nodded. “I think it’s a silly myth, but if the fae are real, maybe Cloudfall is too.”

_What is the myth of Cloudfall? Tell me._

“Cloudfall is a legendary floating library. They say that all knowledge is stored there; if you can find it, you can learn anything you want, and you don’t have to trade anything for it, but you do have to be careful, because the library wants knowledge that you have too, and you might accidentally lose it. But overall I think it’s supposed to be a pretty decent place. It moves around, which is why nobody knows where it is.” Myrrah raised her eyebrows. “Very secretive.”

“You don’t believe in it, then?” Emhlys asked.

“Of course not. A floating library? Really?”

The princess paused. _Why has anyone not attempted to scry this library?_

“Because I am a normal human being and I can’t use magic,” Myrrah said flatly, leveling her gaze at the princess. “Most people can’t.”

_Ah._

“Can _you_ scry it?” Emhlys asked the bright princess, tipping his head to the side.

_I’m not sure._ She really hadn’t done much in scrying before; her magic usually was tapping into the land and sensing for what she wanted to find. _I suppose I could try to find out…_

She reached out to her world and reached out for the Wyrmwood. It was easy to touch on the entire forest at once now – she was used to it. But the sky _above_ the forest was another matter…

The forest soaked up the sunlight from above and drew from the roots below. The wind whispered across the canopy and toyed with the leaves.

No floating island cast its shadow on her forest. No library drifted above her trees. _It is not here,_ she said. _I do not know where it is. Has there ever been any mention of where it may be?_

“Well, it’s not in human lands, that’s for sure,” Myrrah muttered. “We’d have seen it. It’s nowhere from here to the southern coast.”

_Could it be above the ocean?_

“Gods, I hope not.”

Nowhere from here to the southern shore. Very well; she would have to search northwards. _I must find this library._

“But it’s not real.”

_Yet you speak of it in certainty. Do you believe in it, or do you not?_

Myrrah paused. “I didn’t believe in a lot of things, but here we are,” she muttered, glancing over to Emhlys, then back to the princess. “So. I guess maybe I will, for now.”

_That is enough, I suppose._

Cloudfall. A legendary floating library, somewhere northwards of the Wyrmwood. That certainly wasn’t very much to go on, but it was better than nothing.

She had to find it. She obviously would not be able to from the Wyrmwood.

So the bright princess left her protections over the Wyrmwood and over Myrrah’s town and went northwards, through the grasses of the vast plains, past the remnants of the Golden Wood, and further.

The Golden Wood was fading fast. She looked out over its canopy and saw only the faintest hints of the glimmering leaves of the trees the fae had planted. The ordinary trees were slowly turning brilliant red and orange, burnished copper brushing the canopy like sunset light. She turned away.

How to find Cloudfall?

She knew it would cast a shadow wherever it went. She knew it was large enough to contain years of knowledge, or all the knowledge in the world. But that was all she knew.

The bright princess continued, passing through the outskirts of the northern forest and stepping into the foothills of the mountains, and then into the mountains themselves.

They were not as hard to navigate as she had feared. Their massive peaks were worn from ages of existence, and their slopes were coated in thick forest. This place held its own power; not like that of the Wyrmwood did, but rather existing apart from the world, ever so slightly. She passed between the massive trunks of hemlocks that scraped the bottoms of the clouds and stepped through silent clearings padded with layers of fallen needles. This place was ancient and silent; she dared not disturb it anymore than she had to.

Further north. She did not know if Cloudfall would be far to the north, or if it were somewhere east or west of her; she did not know how to find out. Several times she stopped and searched the mountain range for hints of its shadows, but found nothing. If it was here, it was invisible to her.

She found several creeks and streams, but only one river, which she followed for ease of travel. It was swift and cold and ran from the north. It glimmered like silver in the daylight and diamonds in the night, when the stars were reflected in its clear water.

These woods were quiet, but things lived here. Foxes and wolves and deer dashed through the undergrowth; pine martins skittered along tree branches, watching her with dark eyes. Grosbeaks and finches flitted overhead, woodpeckers drummed off in the trees, and the occasional bear would lumber along the bank or fish for salmon in the river. The bright princess did not bother these creatures, and they did not attack her. Strangely, she did not see any of the Empress’ dark beasts; it seemed that She did not value this place enough to watch over it as She did in the rest of the world.

Strange, the bright princess thought. Why would anyone not value this place? It is different from the Wyrmwood, stately and patient, and it is one of the most beautiful places in the world, simple and alive.

She had passed towns and villages when she went northwards, but these mountains were devoid of humans. It seemed that they also did not like these richly forested lands. Perhaps there was not enough for them to eat here.

Northwards. Always northwards. She passed out of the mountains and climbed up to a plateau, a cold and windswept place. She saw across this plain that there were more mountains at the top of the world, icy and snow-covered and brutally beautiful from a distance where the sun struck them and they glittered so bright she could not look at them.

She tried; it reminded her of the first time she had seen the sun, how it had been too bright to see. As she thought this, as she peered at those far mountains, she saw something.

One of the mountains was not a mountain. It was an earthmote, floating above the ground, far off to the west. It seemed to be just soil and stone, but beyond it at the far edges of the bright princess’ vision, she could see another.

It seemed likely that this is where Cloudfall would be, then. The bright princess turned and headed northwest across the cold plains and through patches of stunted forest and rocky escarpments.

Wild horses roamed this harsh land. They stormed away from her when she came upon them, in flurries of dust and frantic whinnies. She watched them curiously. These round-bellied creatures were nothing like the slim, elegant fae mounts she was used to seeing; they had tangled manes and tails and were coated in dirt. Their hooves thumped on the ground, not ringing like Spire’s did, and they bore no unearthly glimmer.

But they were wild and good, and she sensed in them a sort of surging feral power that the fae mounts lacked. She went on by and did them no harm.

To her surprise, there were humans here, too. Even in this inhospitable environment between the mountain ranges, there were those who made their homes and lives. It fascinated her, how resilient the people were; she watched a family collectively gather in their goats one night, fearing a bear attack, and then fend off the bear when it came. Two daughters and a mother. One of the daughters brandished a shortsword, shouting; the other drew back on a yew bow, and together, they killed the bear as it tried to break through the building to catch one of their goats, who had been wounded.

Humans, it seemed, refused to give up. She compared these people to Myrrah, who always seemed on the cusp of despair. Perhaps they were different. Perhaps they were the same.

She kept going northwest. The hard rock was difficult to grasp with her paws, and the cold of the night was uncomfortable. This place did not support her power like the Wyrmwood did; she did not have the same strength as she did there. She was out of her element, out of her realm. This worried her.

Day by day the earthmote range grew closer. She saw now that it was not two, but many earthmotes, drifting in a high chain of mountains that bobbed gently in the wind and disappeared sometimes in the clouds that swept by. At night, their massive forms blocked out the stars. They were so far up; she wondered how she would reach them.

When she did finally get to the mountains at the base of the earthmote range, she was lucky. One of them ended in a sheer cliff where it seemed like half the mountain had been split apart, and one of the earthmotes had drifted downwards to be level with the top of the cliff. If she were lucky, she might be able to jump, or spin herself a bridge.

She jumped. It was a terrifying fall, but she caught onto the side of the earthmote, clinging to dirt and tree roots that poked through the soil. Her weight landing on the mote actually tilted it to the side and she clung, panicking, and hoped that it would not crash away into the mountain.

It did not, only wobbled in the air and eventually stilled. She climbed up and sat on the earthmote, shakily cleaning her paws off. From here she could only continue upwards; so upwards she went, launching herself from one mote to the next, sometimes sending threads on the breeze before her, sometimes missing her mark anyway and falling and catching herself on long strands of golden silk.

The chain of earthmotes was longer than the Wyrmwood itself, stretching to the northwest out of the bright princess’ sight. She spent days traversing its length and wondered if it would have been easier to walk below.

No; it wouldn’t have been. She would not have been able to ascend to Cloudfall when she finally found it if she had been below. By the time she reached it, she was so high in the sky that when she looked down, she could not see the ground; the clouds blocked her view. It was all brilliant azure sky and white clouds and snow, and above, the ever-present sun. It was on the twelfth day of her journey that she peered forwards once again and saw, drifting at the end of the chain of earthmotes, an alabaster library. It was carved out of a single chunk of marble the size of a mountain itself, hovering above the layer of clouds.

It was cold. The bright princess was struggling to move her limbs properly; she was stiff and slow, and it was hard for her to breathe. The air seemed unreal, thin; not there all the way. Almost like there just wasn’t enough there.

But she had found it. Cloudfall, before her. She gathered herself and wove a bridge between the final earthmote and Cloudfall, and crept across the gap as it swayed in the blisteringly cold wind. The sides of the library’s earthmote were sheer and smooth, and hard to climb, but she clawed her way to the top and stood, exhausted, before Cloudfall’s entryway.

There was someone standing there. It was a rag-wrapped being hovering gently above the ground, dark green eyes peering out from a wavering mass of cloth and paper and what could have been tentacles writhing around where its face should have been. She could not see legs or feet of any type, just the swaying hems of the scraps of fabric and parchment.

“Welcome,” it said, and the voice was soft and ageless. It cut through the wind, curling through the sky like a knife.

_This is Cloudfall?_ the princess managed, struggling to breathe.

“It is. You’ve made it.” The being bowed, sinking lower to the soil that sat precariously atop Cloudfall’s marble base. “Please. Enter.”

It turned and drifted towards Cloudfall’s entryway, and the bright princess followed.


	13. All Stories Must Be Told

Once the main entryway doors were closed, the sound of the wind died away. The bright princess could still hear it, roaring outside, but it was far away. In here, she was safe. She felt herself begin to warm up once out of it, and it was easier to breathe here. She soon did not struggle to keep up with the floating being’s gentle pace.

The being’s cloth scraps trailed along the floor as it moved slowly forwards. “You have come seeking knowledge,” it intoned. Not a question, not a statement. An acknowledgement. “What is it you wish to find, exactly?”

_I must learn about the Blue Empress._

The being was silent for a moment. The bright princess followed it as it drifted through the main entryway and out into a massive room, so dark she could barely see, filled floor to ceiling with bookshelves. “Hmm,” it said, after a time, and spun to face her. She noticed now that it had two emaciated arms tucked into its tattered robes. “The Empress. The ruler of your land, absolute authority on all things. Why do you wish to know about her?”

_The land suffers under her reign. I seek to end it._

“Hmm,” the being said again, and was silent again.

After a moment, the bright princess shifted uncomfortably and asked, _Who are you?_

“I am the Cloudfall’s Caretaker,” it replied. “The Empress’ story is one that is not often told. She takes pains to prevent its recitation.”

_I would imagine so. She does not want anyone challenging Her power._

“For different reasons than you may know.” The Caretaker bobbed up and down slightly. “Follow me.”

The being led the bright princess through the massive room and over to a hollow carved out of the wall, another small hallway that led into a circular chamber, all dark wood and soft carpeted ground. The only thing in the chamber, to one side, was a circular desk. “This is the recording chamber,” the Caretaker hummed. “Here is where I will tell you the tale you wish to know – and here, hopefully, is where you will tell your tale to me.”

_Pardon?_

“That is my request.” The Caretaker turned to her, eyes unreadable amongst the folds of cloth and paper surrounding its ancient face. “Tell me your story so far, and I will tell you of the Blue Empress. You wish to know of her.”

_Yes._

“So that you may defeat her?”

_Yes._

“You are determined,” the Caretaker mused, “to end her tale, as it is not yet complete.”

_I wish to defeat her. It is my goal. My purpose._

“I know.” The Caretaker eyed her. “Your story is still being written, but I do know part of it. You want to free your world.”

_More than anything._

It bobbed up and down gently. “Of course,” it mused. “When all this is complete, you must tell me your full tale. I insist. There is no contract binding you to this request, and I will not withhold the story you seek to entreat one from you, but I hope you will find it in you to bring your history to my records.”

_Of course,_ the princess answered.

“You may refuse, if you desire, and you will still find what you need, but it would be unfortunate to lose your fascinating history.”

_I will tell what I have to you, though I do not know _why_ you would want to hear my tale – _

“All stories are worth recording,” the Caretaker said softly. “Every life has meaning.”

_Even that of the Blue Empress?_

“Meaning is not synonymous with benevolence, or a legacy of love and beauty.” The Caretaker slowly drifted over the side of the desk and lowered itself into the middle. “I will not take it now. Later. When it is done, or nearly done. Come back to me then and tell me your tale.”

_I will._

It nodded. “Good. Now. You came seeking information.”

_Yes._

“I will give it.” It paused, folding its withered hands in front of it.

_Are you not frightened?_ the bright princess asked, unable to keep quiet. _Are you not afraid that She will hear you? That She will come for you?_

“I fear no one,” the Caretaker said simply, a calm confidence in its mossy eyes and moth-flutter voice. “And the Empress should know: No matter how hard she may try to become someone she is not, she cannot alter her past. And no matter how hard she may try to erase her history from the knowledge of this world, all stories must be told eventually.”

The princess settled herself down in the center of the room, tucking her legs in and resting on the carpet, as the Caretaker began to speak.

“The Empress was not born a royal. She comes not from a line of queens, from no kingdom across the sea. She was grown from this land, and is part of it.

“The Northern forests are her home. You know them; you passed through and above them to reach Cloudfall. She awoke here as a sapling, and grew and flourished through her life.”

_Awoke? Sapling?_ the bright princess tapped her pedipalps on the floor, baffled. _What manner of creature _is _she?!_

“A woodland spirit,” the Caretaker explained, seemingly unbothered by the interruption. “A dryad of the pine balds and stone peaks.”

A dryad!

The princess could not imagine a single future where she could have guessed this on her own. A dryad. It was unfathomable, to imagine that veiled figure as one of the treefolk that slipped through the deciduous jungle of the Wyrmwood.

_But… but how did she…_ the bright princess paused, glancing over to the Caretaker; they sat patiently, watching her. She quieted.

“She was much beloved in this forest, but none who knew her yet live. During her lifetime – and this, of course, was before she was Empress, when she was still tied to the life of a single tree – Sylvach came under attack from an ancient enemy. Creatures from other worlds invaded; the sky split open and clouds of insects poured out, blackening the sun and consuming the land.

“As these outsiders railed against the assembled kingdoms and forests, a powerful mortal king learned how to draw upon the energy of the world. He rallied the realm against the invaders, uniting the world under his symbol and claiming the entirety of Sylvach for his own. No one stood against him – because he was the only thing that stood against the clouds.”

The Caretaker swept one hand through the air; as its thin fingers passed its face, the air shimmered, and the image of a wavering flag rippled in the air like a mirage. It was a white flag with several interlocking, fragmented circles in red and black. “This was his symbol,” it murmured. “This was the symbol of the people of Sylvach, standing together.”

In the image, the flag whipped in the wind, and the circles fell apart. “He sealed Sylvach against these invaders,” the Caretaker murmured, continuing their tale. “And when he did so, he did not relinquish his power over the realm. He retained it for his own; for controlling the realm meant that it would keep him alive for as long as he held it. He was immortal, and he did not want to give up his eternal life.”

Eternal life. The bright princess was quite familiar with the concept – the fae were immortal, as long as they were not slain by some illness or wound. She herself was not so long-lived.

“His iron control of the land was not welcome,” the Caretaker whispered, continuing. Even the sound of the wind had died away. “For he demanded tithe from those he protected, and threatened to bring back the hordes of insects if he were disobeyed. And his threats were not empty. He decimated entire towns, killing all the inhabitants, when they tried to combat him.”

_How?!_

“He reopened the rifts that he had sealed shut. He allowed Sylvach’s ancient enemies to return to the realm and do as they pleased, and banished them when they left. The Iron King. The All-King. Saerazhak, the King of Sylvach.”

The bright princess had never heard of this before. Saerazhak, the All-King? This must have happened before the fae had even come to Sylvach. Or perhaps they’d just never thought it was important to remember. Or perhaps they hadn’t noticed that it had happened, locked away in their Golden Wood.

“He saved Sylvach, but he controlled it utterly afterwards. The Empress – and her original name is not known even to me – was hurt by his rule, harmed by his constant threats and vicious tyranny, much like the rest of the land. But she did not want to suffer under his reign.”

_This sounds oddly familiar,_ the bright princess said quietly.

“It does, doesn’t it?”

_How did this happen? How did She become that which She despised?_

“She could not hope to fight the Saerazhak on her own, not as a simple dryad. So she pulled her soul from her tree and traveled, hoping to find something that would aid her. She came here, actually, long ago. I told her what I will now tell you: there are places of great power around this world, places where ancient celestials fell, where power is concentrated in violent swirls of magic. I told her of one to the west, in the sea, deep beneath the waves. I know that it is one of the places even Saerazhak did not manage to drain; I thought perhaps she could use it if she so desired.

“What she found in the sea I do not know. But the water and the world answer to her now. The sea is her ally; water is more ancient than anything, and it is her friend. Be cautious if you seek answers in her footsteps. The ocean will not suffer the presence of those it does not claim allegiance to.

“With this power, the Empress brought herself to Saerazhak and presented herself as a dragon. She told him she recognized his power, told him that she would serve him. And he allowed it – he was so lost in his own power that he failed to see when he lost his people. And the Empress turned on him one night, killing him, and so became the new Empress.

“She had no choice but to take his throne. For in gathering all Sylvach’s power to himself, Saerazhak broke the realm’s structure. It cannot function without a ruler now – if its ruler dies, it will unravel, piece by piece, unless it has a new one. The power cannot be redistributed. But the Empress could not hold it properly – she could not control the realm, because she was not strong enough. So she began to drain it in order to keep it alive. It is a cycle, one that she cannot break, because she is not the answer. She is not strong enough; she has never been strong enough. But she knows how to pull from other creatures and from the land itself and use what she takes to protect and bolster herself, and keep the realm alive.”

_She is… helping us?_

“In a way. But her relation to the world is not healthy. You know this; she has wounded you before, and harmed those you cared for.”

_That is correct._ The bright princess thought again of Verilian, writhing in the fae infirmary, poison in his veins and his mind. _She is evil._

“Such distinctions are rarely quite so clear. Her intentions were only the best, at the beginning. Now she is something else. She is no longer what she was, and I doubt she would ever return to that life. Her tree is long since gone; hundreds of years have passed since she ascended. She has nothing to return to, even if she were able to put the title behind her. And she cannot leave the realm, or it will die.”

The Empress was keeping Sylvach whole. The bright princess paused.

_What will happen when I kill Her?_

The question she was afraid to ask, now. If she destroyed the only person holding the realm together, what would follow?

“The realm will die,” the Caretaker said softly, eyes unfocused. “The land will fall apart. The Council of the Land, made of those who hold power over small sections, is not strong enough to keep it alive on their own. Sylvach is nothing without a ruler.”

_But…_ the princess paused. She knew what she was going to think, what she would have to say. She did not want to say it.

“But?” The word hung in the air.

_She has to die._

The Empress was evil. The bright princess knew this, and she had had one goal through her life. The fae had taught her how to use her own power and the magic of the world to her advantage.

_But the realm must have a ruler._

Círdnanh had named her as a princess of the land. The people were answering to her as well, as their protector and ruler. She already knew her path in life, and where it would take her, but until now she had not known what would happen afterwards.

_I will have to do it._

The Caretaker focused on her, eyes unreadable. The soft-skinned tendrils of its face quivered against each other as it looked her over.

_I will take the realm from the Empress. Until a better ruler can be found, I will hold it._

Silence.

The Caretaker sighed softly. “You alone can choose your future. I have told you the story you want to know.”

The bright princess raised herself off the soft floor, mind racing. _Something has her name,_ she murmured. _If I can find her name, I can bind her. I can constrain her._

“Perhaps. If the land will work with you.”

_The land will work with me._ She turned her piercing gaze on the Caretaker. _It will answer to me, to be freed of the Empress. She harms it as much as she harms its people._

The Caretaker bowed. “Then go, princess, and return when your story is complete, for I wish to hear it.”

_Thank you for your help._

“Of course.”

She turned and stepped out of the recording chamber, leaving the Caretaker behind. It watched her go, deep eyes unreadable.

Oh, she had what she needed. Her next destination. Her new goal. The black western cliffs held some type of secret, a source of the power that the Empress wielded. And it held her name. Whatever it was, she had to find it.

The Caretaker had warned her to be careful of the ocean. She would prepare herself. First, however, she had to return to the Wyrmwood. She wanted to make sure her realm was safe.

She left Cloudfall behind, descending through the earthmotes until she dropped from a single silken line to the forest floor. From there she traveled swiftly back to the Wyrmwood.

On the way back, she passed the people’s villages again. And this time, she let herself be seen.

The people were frightened of her. She saw that they watched her from a distance, but she did not bother them, and they did not bother her.

When she returned, she learned that her message had been spreading. Emhlys’ little army had grown since she last saw – there were humans in the Wyrmwood now, living in the palace she had built for the fae. The fae welcomed them in. They were her warriors, her fighters. Her people. And when they saw her, their eyes lit up, and they smiled.

She was their leader. She brought them hope.

Moonlight shimmered over the leaf litter. The bright princess, high in her tree, sensed movement –

Emhlys. He stepped into her lair clearing and craned his head back, trying to spot her.

_Hello, brother,_ she murmured, creeping out of her sleeping hammock onto a tree trunk. _Why are you awake?_

“I wanted to talk to you,” he replied. “Without anyone else around.”

She descended, down to his level, and faced him. _About?_

“You.” Emhlys sat on one of the gray rocks at the clearing’s edge. “Are you alright?”

_Of course I am._

“But…” Emhlys sighed. “Are you, really? You’ve gotten this whole forest to be yours, and you’re princess and everything, but –“ he broke off, searching for words. “How do you feel?” he finally managed, looking up to her.

_What do you mean?_

“You’re always so focused on your purpose. But nobody can be like that forever – not even my mother. Are you okay? Are you… I don’t know, tired? Nervous? Excited?”

She stared at him.

“Don’t give me that look.” he stared right back, one eyebrow raised. “I know you. Talk to me, sister mine.”

_I feel…_ the bright princess paused. _…like I should not say it, lest it overcome me._

“That’s ridiculous,” Emhlys scoffed immediately. “_Not_ saying it is _far_ more dangerous.”

_I do not know if I am strong enough to defeat the Empress._

Silence for a moment.

_She is so powerful. I barely withstood her pull at the wall in the Golden Wood – how could I possibly fight her directly? She didn’t know I was there last time. Her power, directed at me… I think I will die._

“Well, that’s heavy, but to be expected,” Emhlys said after a moment.

_What do you mean?_

“Any sentient creature going up against the Blue Empress should rightfully be a little nervous. To be honest, I’d be much more worried if you _weren’t_ at least a bit skeptical about the whole matter.”

_I’m afraid of Her._ Saying it, she felt the truth of that fear fill her – but she also felt relieved. _I am afraid of Her, of failing to defeat Her, of failing to protect everyone I have promised to protect. I have convinced so many people already that I am the answer to their despair. What if I’ve lied to them? What if I am wrong? They will all be killed or turned if I fail._

“That’s the thing about leading people. You’re responsible for them, and it’s awful.”

_I’m not – I’m just a princess. Just a spider,_ she said lamely.

“Oh, come on,” Emhlys said, rolling his eyes. “Don’t tell me you’ve missed the new title you’ve been given?”

Oh, she knew it. She’d heard it whispered amongst them when she returned from Cloudfall – she heard it on the wind. The Bright Queen. _I know it,_ she said, quietly. _But I didn’t earn it._

“Yes, you did! These people call you this because they believe in you and they view you as their Bright Queen.”

_But what if they believe in a lie?_

A moment of silence. The bright princess turned to face Emhlys, searching him for the answer.

“It’s their belief in you that makes you powerful,” he finally said. “Because you have them, you are stronger. Well, that, and your natural magic, and the magic of Sylvach that you can draw on and whatnot. But aside from all that, it’s the people.”

The Bright Queen laughed. Emhlys beamed back at her.

_I hope you’re right,_ she murmured, after the echoes of her laughter had faded.

“Of course I’m right. I’m not always, but I am this time. Your people believe in you, and I do too.”

_Oh, they’re _my_ people now, are they?_

“Well, obviously.” Emhlys shifted, crossing his legs. “They chose you, and you gathered them. That army that Myrrah and I have been training? That’s your army. Those are your warriors and fighters and healers. It’s all yours.”

_Well, it will be,_ the Bright Queen sighed. _Provided we can figure out how to use them._

“As soon as you get the Empress’ name, we can march towards the capital. I feel that we will find our battle there, or sooner as we go.”

_We are not ready._

“Not yet. Not by far. But you will be able to bring us together. After you find the Empress’ name, you’ll be able to cut her power off from the land.” Emhlys’ eyes glittered in the full moon’s light. “We are so close now.”

_The Caretaker said I would find what I needed in the sunset cliffs,_ the Queen mused. _I must go there. I will leave my protection here, running on the magic of the Wyrmwood._

“Which we certainly appreciate,” Emhlys acknowledged, dipping his head.

_But I must go. I cannot wait any longer._

“Then go.”

_I am afraid._

“I would be too.” Emhlys stood and stepped over to the Queen, putting his hands on the sides of her head. “But listen. You are the strongest person I know aside from my mother. And you are in your home realm. You will be able to do anything you want. You are unstoppable.”

_Not yet, I’m not._

“No, you are. You’re just going to get _more_ unstoppable when you get the name.”

_Against Her, maybe._ The Queen was dubious.

Emhlys gently patted the side of her face. “Stop being so negative,” he chided.

_I’m not being _negative,_ I’m being – I’m expressing _reasonable concern,_ see,_ the Queen argued.

“Of course you are.” Emhlys released her and stepped back. “But I got you to talk. I know you won’t, not to Myrrah or anyone else.”

_I’ll talk to you. In the future, I will._

“Good. And I’ll chatter at you like always.”

If she could have rolled her eyes, she would have.

“Oh, that look! What, you don’t like when I disturb you in the middle of the night to chat with you and force you to reveal all your insecurities?”

Now she _really_ wished she could roll her eyes.

“Incredible,” Emhlys mused, shaking his head with a grin. “You are the only sister capable of giving me eight side-eyes at once.”

_Go back to sleep, you fool,_ she laughed.

“As the Queen orders,” Emhlys replied, bowing to her. “If you depart before I wake, good luck on your journey. Know that you are destined for success.”

_One can only hope. Goodnight, brother._

Emhlys left, striding back through the forest towards the palace. The Queen turned and skittered back up the tree trunks.

Tomorrow, she would leave for the coast. She would travel across the land. She would recover the Empress’ name and bind her power away.

Tomorrow.


	14. Storm

The wind and rain lashed against the Queen’s carapace as she clung desperately to the cliff wall.

_How can I find the keeper of the Empress’ name in this? I cannot move. I cannot leave. This storm will not end._

She had watched this storm for six days after following the coast northwards, trying to find the source of the Empress’ power. She could feel it, somewhere, deep below the waves – there was a deep burning presence in the sea. But it was surrounded by an unending storm. It seemed to have no source and it did not move. It was here for a reason. From what she could tell, it had been here for quite some time. Years. Decades, even.

Its power was awful as it tore at the cliffs, and when she reached into it she felt the presence of something greater than it below.

Whatever had given the Empress her power was within, and the storm would not dissipate. She had no choice but to enter the maelstrom.

_This was a mistake._

She had gone in, and now she regretted it. She could barely hang on. The storm-battered cliffside was peculiarly smooth, sanded by years of constant wind and rain, and it was harder than she had expected to find footholds. Her claws could only cling to the parts of the cliffs that were already pockmarked; and always the fierce gale threatened to hurl her into the rough waters below.

She had been trying to move along the cliffs for hours now. Weary, unceasing hours.

_I have no control here._

There was no way she was going to be able to find whatever kept the Empress’ name. She could hardly move; only the faintest of shields kept her from freezing in this rain. All of Emhlys’ brave words, Círdnanh’s kind assurances, Myrrah’s incredulous belief – all of it felt like a distant dream. Here there was only the storm. She did not know how long she had been trying to force along the cliffside through it. Sylvach needed her, but she could not help. It was overwhelming.

_The sea is not my ally._

Of course it wasn’t. Water was ancient. It did not care for her. It barely cared for the Empress. She was not Queen in this place.

_This is not my realm._

This was not her realm. The sea was not hers.

_This is not my realm._

…

…but it was.

The sea was not hers – not originally. She was a creature of the woods and meadows, the southern forest. That was her _home_. But her _realm…_

…was _Sylvach._

She was the Queen of the Wyrmwood, but to fight the Empress, she needed to rally the entirety of Sylvach to her.

_Everywhere_ was her realm.

_I…_

This whole world was her realm. Why would she not be able to speak to it? Perhaps she could calm the storm, or demand passage through. In these vicious winds she could not reach Sylvach’s magic, but perhaps if she were convincing enough, the storm’s power would allow her through.

She reached for Sylvach’s energy. The chaotic whirling of the storm tore her reach apart as it had before; she had only herself to rely on.

That was fine. This was how she had begun her life, with only her own magic to draw upon.

_I am the Bright Queen of the Wyrmwood,_ she began, after a moment, addressing the sea and the storm. _Allow me to pass._

Nothing happened. She felt a seed of doubt begin to grow, and pushed forwards, turning to face the water below her. It slammed into the black cliffs and threw spray up to mix with the raindrops. _I am the Bright Queen of the Wyrmwood, and of Sylvach, the Honeysuckle Princess, daughter of Círdnanh Queen of the Fae, sister of the Foxglove Prince, leader of the people of the land. Allow me to pass, for I have business with what lies below!_

The storm’s magic pulled away from her. She reached down and touched Sylvach’s deep power, the surging green that she knew so well. Drawing on it, she built a bubble around herself and sighed, finally able to breathe.

Now. She had to go down, for the source of the power lay deep under the waves. She did not know how to do this.

She tried to move downwards, towards the water. To her surprise and relief, when her shield touched the waves, it pushed the water out of the way. It was difficult to see at first because of the violence of the waves, but she kept going and felt the rain lessen as she crept down the black rocks into the dark sea.

Further. Only her paws were outside the bubble shield, to grip onto what she could of the smooth rock. She passed below the waves entirely and the sound of the storm quieted. Now she could see it from below – the swirling water lit from above. That was something those like her should never have been able to see. She did not belong here.

It took an incredible amount of power to keep the shield up as she crept along the rocks. The water was ever pushing on it, trying to seep in around her paws, seeking to drown her. And it was dark – all light that managed to diffuse through the clouds overhead was swiftly lost in the turbid water. She shuddered as the last of the daylight vanished into the deep and she was surrounded by her golden shimmer and total darkness.

It was freezing cold outside her bubble. She could hear her own breath and the distant thunder of the storm.

And down she went.

Further. Further. She did not know where the ocean would end until her feet touched silt; she nearly went weak with relief, for her paws were freezing cold and she could barely hold onto the rocks. Walking on level ground would be much easier than trying to climb along the slick ocean rocks. The power she had sensed pulsed ahead of her and she began to walk towards it.

And she started to see lights.

Pale blue, pink, green. Strange bulbous creatures floated in the water here, each shedding its own soft, ethereal glow. The Queen paused for a moment to marvel at their beauty. They drifted past, some trailing long tendrils of transparent flesh glittering with tiny lights. Occasionally they would pulsate and drive themselves forwards through the deep water.

Ahead, the radiance grew stronger. The Queen could see faint shimmers of blue along the ground where rocks broke through the silt. It seemed that the light was actually flowing from the ground – was there something below the bottom of the sea?

She continued. The power grew closer. The amount of light shimmering up from the seafloor or radiating from chunks of glowing rock was enough for her to make out towering strands of kelp, somehow thriving in these frigid depths. She stepped over a ridge in the seafloor and saw that it sloped downwards here. The water was too filled with sediment for her to see much, but she could make out light in the distance – far more light than any of the fissures in the stone had been shedding. Here the kelp strands were more numerous, forming a sort of forest in the deep dark. She could see other strange underwater plants growing alongside the kelp, some of which shed their own light in greens and yellows. There were tiny fish darting amongst the strands, flitting to and fro above her head. She could see the flashes of silver reflecting the light from below.

This place was utterly alien to her.

The Queen picked her way down the slope, trying not to disturb anything with her bubble. She passed chunks of rock and plants far larger than she – it had been some time since she had felt quite this small, completely dwarfed by her environment.

Deeper still. She saw now the source of the great light – a crevasse yawned ahead, blue lancing from its depths upwards like sunrays. She did not want to get too close. The presence she had sensed was very close – certainly within the chasm. She stopped several of her body lengths from the edge and reached out with her mind.

_Hello?_

A subtle shift in the water.

_I come seeking something here. I wish to know it. Is there someone there?_

The water changed again, the currents pushing against her bubble. She steadied herself, planting her paws in the silt and sinking the bubble down so she could stay warm.

“Who comes?” hissed a voice, scratchy and smooth at once, old as the stars. The Queen spun in place, but could not see its source. Nervously, she faced the chasm again.

_I am the Bright Queen of – _

“Who comes?” it asked again. “Speak…”

_I am – _

“Kssss,” it hissed, and she heard annoyance. “Speak.”

She was trying! _If I could –_

“I cannot hear you,” the voice interrupted, “and your voice matters here.”

Did it… did it want her to speak _out loud?_

Could she do that?

She had to, or this entire journey would be useless. She focused and tried to move the air, the water, to speak.

_I am – _

No, that wasn’t it. She heard the steam-like hissing of the voice grow.

She tried again. _I am – _

“No.”

_I wish to – _

“No!”

_“I am the Bright Queen and I will not suffer your interruptions! I am here for a reason. Let me speak!”_

Silence. The voice did not reply to this.

The Queen realized what she had done. After a moment, she composed herself.

_“I request an audience with you,”_ she tried, still uncertain of what she was speaking to. _“And I would request that I know what you are.”_

A few brief seconds of stillness, then an explosion of glossy patterned skin and flesh as a great beast burst up from the glowing chasm. The Bright Queen had a brief memory of the serpent’s coils as the creature surrounded her. She turned, trying to find a face to speak to, and found herself looking directly into the copper-speckled eyes of a massive eel. Each of its eyes was the size of her head. It stared her down and she looked back, trying not to flinch.

“A Queen,” the creature said, eyeing her. “A Queen from above. You broke my storm. You bring the sky here. Down to the deep.”

Her air bubble. She remained silent.

“You come for a reason,” the beast continued. “You may speak.”

_“Who are you?”_ She resented being told when she was allowed to address it and when she was not, but thought perhaps it would be best not to argue with this creature.

“Leviathan,” it purred, whirling around her in a series of slow circles. Its body didn’t seem to end – there were simply ribbons of silky-smooth skin wrapping through the water as the Leviathan wound around the Queen’s bubble, through holes in the rocks and around the giant kelp and skeleton coral.

_“Leviathan.”_ the Queen took another breath. _“I have come here for a reason.”_

“What reason? What reason?” It continued its meandering path around her; she was forced to turn in place to follow its face.

_“I wish to learn a name that only you know.”_

The Leviathan swirled around her, causing the walls of her air bubble to wobble alarmingly. “A name? A name of whom? Of what? I have many names, all mine, all mine…”

_“A great enemy,”_ the Bright Queen said. _“She is now known only as the Blue Empress.”_

The Leviathan, quicker than the Queen could comprehend, whirled and slammed its muzzle against the shield, jaws gaping to reveal rows of conical white teeth. Its throat worked furiously as it spoke, words tumbling from it like river water, sometimes almost too fast to tell them apart from each other, sometimes slow and languid. Its manner of speech was difficult to follow; it felt like being perched on a high branch in a storm, being tossed about, barely holding on.

“A thief!” it screeched. “A thief, is She. Vicious and vile, treacherous wiles, traded for something far greater than Her. Gave me a name, yes, and took power in return; a bad trade, a false trade, a trick.”

The Bright Queen was unable to contain her curiosity. _“What did she take?”_

“Not a hold, not a take. What deal did She make?” the Leviathan tossed its head back and forth, snapping its jaws shut. “The bones of a dragon, yes, a dragon lies within the sea. In my chasm. Still shines, even now, even here. From it I took its power – its power, you see, you see, was still there when it died. I took it. It was mine, mine, it belonged to me. Fairly found! But not fairly lost! The dragon could change. Could shift.”

Yes. Myrrah had said something similar. The Bright Queen waited.

“Divine. Celestial. She traded her name for it; yes, She took that from me. She gave her name, She said it was valuable!” the Leviathan gulped water furiously, whipping its head from side to side. “Useless! Useless!”

_“I need to know that name,”_ the Queen said. _“Will you tell it to me?”_

“Need? Need?” the Leviathan whirled and faced her, eyes gleaming, and the Queen realized her mistake. “What will you give for ‘need?’”

She had nothing to offer. What could she use to barter with this creature – and did she have to barter at all, or could she get the name without making some sort of deal? The Leviathan was chaotic and unstable, and she did not want to bind herself to it.

_“It’s not particularly valuable to me,”_ she tried casually. _“It is a curiosity.”_

“You lie,” hissed the Leviathan, baring its teeth. “You lie, like She did! Nothing is free.” It turned to the Queen again and pressed into the bubble, if I at were trying to break it. “Give for the name, or you will not get it.”

_“I have no possessions to give, and I have no name to trade in return.”_ She was likely not going to get out of this without some sort of trade. That frustrated and worried her.

“Give your magic?” the Leviathan peered from one massive eye out at her.

She needed that! _“I will die without my power in this place – and I need it to fight the Empress.”_ She may as well let that slip, since she already wasn’t going to get out of this easily.

The Leviathan circled her slowly, weaving in and out of the kelp and plants and rocks. Its massive body cast shadows in the light that streamed up from the chasm. It seemed to be thinking; its gills billowed as it breathed.

The Bright Queen watched it carefully. This time she did not turn to face it, and simply waited.

Finally the Leviathan swirled itself to a halt in front of her, nosing against the bubble again, less than a body length from the Queen. “I know what I want,” it said. “For a name. For the name. For Her name.”

_“What is your price?”_

“A success.” It pulled back after it said this, seeming immensely satisfied.

_“…I do not understand,”_ the Queen said.

“A success.” It gaped at her, sharp teeth gleaming. “Just one. Just once. When you would succeed – you will fail.”

_“I cannot risk losing against the Empress,”_ the Queen argued. _“I cannot die to Her. If this failure is within that battle – _“

The Leviathan began to shake its head, weaving back and forth in the water. “Kah! Not against Her. Not to do with Her. No, no, it will be something else. Something small. Something with potential, yes, something with possibility.” It stretched the words out, luxuriating in them. “Small. Possibility. Just like the name. Useless, unless.”

One small, unspecified, open-ended success for the Empress’ name. And an assurance that the success would not jeopardize her efforts to free Sylvach. She had no other options.

_“I accept.”_

The Leviathan moved around her again, erratic movements smoothing. It began to trail blue light; its eyes were suffused with the same radiance as the pit behind it. The Queen wondered how it had gained the power to make these deals. What had been its first bargain?

She felt as it sank a hook of magic into her soul – a binding contract. It settled alongside the Empress’ emptiness. A heavy reminder of her pact.

“The name,” the Leviathan said, “is yours.”

And there it was, in her mind, as if she had always known it: Thirty-seven syllables of the sound of mountain wind and the feeling of sun on a cold northern forest. The Queen started; the name was so out of place with everything she knew the Empress to be.

Was this really what the Empress had been? She had given all this light and air up when She had become the Empress, when She had gone to free her land from Saerazhak. And She was too far gone to return to this. She had buried herself in the deep water and turned into something from it.

But now that was uncovered. And the Bright Queen had what she needed.

“Deal is made,” the Leviathan snapped, the blue light fading from its eyes. “What more?”

_“Nothing. I will take my leave.”_ Without waiting for a response, the Bright Queen turned and began to climb back out of the sea, the way she had come.

Behind her, she sensed the Leviathan watch her go before retreating into its lair. She did not look back to it.

The climb up was rough, but she managed to pull herself from the sea and into the open sky, lungs working furiously at the fresh air. The storm was as strong as it had ever been. She pulled herself over the cliff edge and had to rest inside her shield for a moment and mull over the exchange.

A success. When? Where? She did not know, and she supposed she would find out when the Leviathan claimed its prize.

There was no point in worrying about it now, anyways – the deal was made.

After a time she pulled herself up and turned southeast. Now that she had the name, she could finally begin to bind her power.

And she knew exactly what to do.


	15. A Web of Light

Part Three: Takeover

-

When the Empress had broken the wall enclosing the Golden Wood and its surrounding forest, She had shattered it and its sources of power – the mages within the Wood. A single wall, a single source. It would be far more difficult to destroy a barrier that was bolstered in multiple areas.

The Bright Queen had previously wondered how to limit the Empress’ power. She drained the land to power Her own magic – if She couldn’t use the land, how powerful would She really be? How weak would She become without the land under Her control?

The Queen hadn’t known how to impose those limits. Now she did.

It really was simple. She could ensnare the Empress in a net – a series of interlocking walls that together protected the land from Her influence. A web.

And the Queen was a master of weaving webs.

She had to start as far from the Empress as she could to avoid notice. Once she had her web started, she could begin moving inwards.

It was strange, to weave the first locus point of her web. She didn’t know what she was doing, other than creating a solid part of the world where her magic would flow, joined with the magic of Sylvach. She chose a tall granite boulder far to the northwest as the placeholder of her point, and wove one point of her wall there, a tight mesh of golden silk with the Empress’ name wrapped into the strands. She would not be able to pass this point if She were to come here – but no one came here. She could probably destroy it if she were to find it. But that was only because it was the sole point.

The second point, when connected to the first, caused a line of bright gold to flow across the land. Barely visible, but there, stretching in the air between the two. A physical line of light.

Now to ensure that this covered as much of the land as possible.

She was going to have to travel quite a bit to manage this. And more importantly, she was going to meet people on this journey – and now was not the time to hide from them. Now was the time to reveal herself.

The first time she encountered a small village, they were very, _very_ frightened of her. She found that a line she was weaving went directly across a field of theirs, and met the farmers working in the field as she made her way through the tall wheat.

The wind was cold. She stepped through the grass and came face to face with a frightened man holding a scythe.

“Get back!” he cried out, and through the field, the Queen felt others alert to that cry and move towards him. She stopped where she was, pedipalps and two legs holding onto the end of a line of light that she was carefully spinning.

Three others appeared out of the grass. One of them had a pitchfork; the other two also had scythes. The Queen viewed them impassively.

_“Do not be afraid,”_ she said, settling backwards to appear less threatening and allowing the mirror patches on her abdomen to expand and glitter in the bright autumn sunlight. _“I am not your enemy.”_

“What are you?!”

_“I am the Bright Queen of the Wyrmwood,”_ she began, and paused. _“…of Sylvach._”

They eyed her warily.

_“I am here to protect you,”_ she continued, and showed them the light she was spinning. _“This is a barrier. Past this line, no dark beasts will tread, and the Empress’ touch will not span. You are safe. I am spinning a web across the world to contain Her.”_

The farmers exchanged a frightened look. The Queen sighed, exhaling through her spiricles.

_“I am not going to hurt you. I am your ally.”_

One of the farmers finally spoke. “You’re… a Queen?”

_“I am.”_

“Says who?”

The question caught her by surprise. She had to gather an answer. _“I – the fae, the Wood, the people of the land.”_

“Which people?”

_“The villages around the Wyrmwood have united beneath my cause. And I will take this time to ask you to do the same.”_

“…what?” Now it was the farmers’ turn to be startled.

_“I am going to destroy the Empress and Her dark hold on this land,”_ the Bright Queen said. _“Will you stand with me?”_

The farmers stared at her, wide-eyed. “Don’t say Her name,” one of them hissed. “She’ll hear!”

_“I am not afraid. You need not be afraid either. I will protect you.”_

They were silent. The Queen got the idea that perhaps they would need more of a demonstration of her power than a simple line of light stretched over the land.

_“If I may?”_ she asked politely. This was their field, after all, and while it was all borrowed from the land, she didn’t want to disrupt anything particularly important that they were doing.

They stepped back. She left the line of light hanging in the air, suspended from one paw, and deftly wove a new connection point there and then. She breathed the sibilant whispers of the Empress’ name into the weft and spread the point’s shield over the field and houses in the distance.

When she was finished, a cocoon of light shaped like a leaf bud rested on the ground, a physical representation of the point. Spearing up from the tip of the bud was a thin ray of gold. It pierced the sky and spread out in a glimmering shield that covered the entire area.

And she could feel the presence of dark beasts within this area, as well. She could feel mice, birds, cats, all with the dark tendrils of the Empress’ influence in their bodies. She did not want them here.

_Out,_ she commanded them.

They turned and ran. She felt them as they exited the protected area; she felt them vanish from her mind’s view, fleeing into the hills and forest.

The farmers were silent, craning their necks back to see the barrier overhead. After a few seconds the golden shimmer faded and became nearly invisible; it would be impossible to find if they weren’t looking for it.

“What did you do?” one of them asked.

_“This is a shield,”_ the Queen explained. _“A barrier. None of the Empress’ dark creatures can enter here.”_

“How do you know?”

_“I have had many years of experience with these creatures. I have killed many of them. I have tested my power against theirs time and time again, and I win. Is that satisfactory?_”

They could not argue, so she picked up her line of light and threaded it through the point, then continued onwards.

She wove lines down the entire west coast, pausing to outline the Wyrmwood and protect her home. Driving the dark beasts from her realm was satisfying, even as she knew that the animals would perish outside their home. It pained her when she saw giant brown spiderlings tainted with the Empress’ power skitter away from her radiance.

She went further south than she had ever ventured before, down to the white sand coast where the sea was not so ferocious and the wind was gentle. Her paws sunk into the sand and slowed her, but the trees were sturdy and could bear her weight.

Once she reached the furthest south point she could go – and that was across the shallow sea, in a string of beautiful islands – she turned back northwards and wove a second wall, connecting each point to the next and backwards to the points of the first line.

Yes. This was right. She could weave back and forth across the line and build the spokes of her net as she went. This was good; it would contain the Empress.

She had to go so far north she was mired in snow and ice, glacial mountains she had never seen that hurt to walk on and were colder than the Leviathan’s deep. She had to pass by Cloudfall again and gave a curious look up towards its distant figure. The Caretaker was up there, watching. Waiting.

Back and forth. Back and forth. She wove her net across the land, connecting each point in a line of light; and where she went, the darkness fled from her.

And she felt the Empress’ hold on the land begin to lift.

The west coast’s days were brighter, its shadows deeper and softer. There were very few dark creatures, and when she went there, she felt a lifting of the Empress’ emptiness that she had only felt in the Golden Wood. She pushed eastwards with her web and claimed more of Sylvach, praying that the others in the world would begin to feel as she did.

Hopeful.

The more of Sylvach she freed, the more she could feel – surging with brilliance beneath her paws, power that rippled beneath the surface of the land and waited to be used. She could feel it in the soil, the plants, the sky, the wind. The parts that were free were joyous – and fierce.

She was nervous when she ventured into one of the great grasslands valleys that contained a major city. But it needed protected, and she wasn’t about to leave it because she was frightened of the people there disliking her. She would protect it no matter what.

It was easier than expected to get into the city. It was harder to get out. She turned herself invisible and skittered over the walls, then slipped through the streets in the night and found a good place to weave a connection point – a tall cathedral of gray stone and stained glass. She built a point in the spire, and cast a shield, and when she tried to leave there were people gathered there and she could not step into the crowd.

They were watching the line of light that speared up from the spire and murmuring together, trying to discern its nature. The Queen realized it would be for the best if she revealed herself, and she did so, to the surprise and fear of those below.

_“Do not be afraid,”_ she called out over them. _“I am here to protect you.”_

“The Bright Queen!” someone below called out, and she started – they knew her? They knew _of_ her?

_“That is me,”_ she said carefully, creeping down the cathedral towards the people. _“I am the Bright Queen. I am the protector of Sylvach. I am here to help you.”_

“I didn’t think she was real,” someone murmured.

“The Queen!”

“It was just rumors…”

“…saved the people out in Hathersan when the swarm went by…”

“Why is she here?”

_“I am here to build a point for my barriers,”_ the Bright Queen said, silencing the crowd. _“A point for my web. A shield for your city. An area of safety. The darkness will not reach here.”_

Murmurs through the crowd. The Queen reached the ground and moved carefully down the cathedral steps to the cobblestones, nearing the people. They parted for her, but only slightly – they wanted to be near her, it seemed. She gleamed in the sun and almost seemed to let off a light of her own. She saw wonder and fascination on their faces; she saw hope.

_“I am real. I am here.”_

These were her people, weren’t they? They were. They were the people she was helping, freeing the world for. These people had been oppressed by the Empress and her forces for hundreds of years. She was putting an end to that – she was freeing Sylvach, yes, but she was freeing its people as well.

_“I am here for you. Because of you.”_

Murmurs, again.

_“You will be safe here. And you will be stronger here, stronger than ever. I have but one request for you in this bright future: will you stand with me? When I call, will you come to my aid? I will need you to reach the Empress when I have freed this land from her control. Will you answer me?”_

Silence.

For a few terrifying seconds, the Queen thought they would turn away. But people began to step forwards, calling out to her, reaching out to brush their fingers along her brilliant carapace.

“I’ll come,” a middle-aged woman said, stepping up with arms folded. “I’ll be with you.”

“And I!” A younger boy, perhaps seventeen, leaped forwards and stood next to her. “I’ll be with you!”

More cries, shouts, and people pressing inwards. The Queen felt a glow of warmth from their confidence in her – she felt their belief, and their conviction. They were behind her.

How could she fail, with these people supporting her? How could she? If she could have smiled, she would have. _“You honor me,”_ she said. _“I will do everything in my power to uphold your trust.”_

She moved on, and was startled to find that from that point on, word of her seemed to advance before her. When she neared villages, she heard the lookouts cry out – often with her title.

“The Queen! The Bright Queen!”

“Look! Look, it’s the Queen!”

“The Golden Queen!”

They knew her. They spoke of her. Those that did not believe in her were shocked to meet her; and those that claimed her to be evil were startled to be forgiven, and to find in her no hatred, but a fierce love for her world and her people.

The rising sun was still darkened by the Empress’ presence, but the sunset had never been more brilliant. The Queen gathered people behind her – and those that stood with her went to the Wyrmwood, to live in the secret villages and learn how to fight.

She returned to the Wyrmwood after a time and found Emhlys and Myrrah waiting for her.

“Sister,” Emhlys said, folding his arms. “What have you managed to _do_?!”

_“I am freeing the land,”_ the Queen replied, proudly. _“Where I weave my light, the Empress cannot pass. Her influence is gone.”_

Emhlys stared at her, legitimately taken aback. “You – your voice,” he managed, after a second. “You, ah… “

Ah, yes. _“A lesson taught by the Leviathan,”_ she murmured.

“The what?” Myrrah said, raising her eyebrows.

_“A great beast that dwells in the sea, to the north, off the western coast. I… spoke with it.”_

Emhlys narrowed his eyes. The Queen tried to sound casual, but he saw through her white lie.

“I would disbelieve,” Myrrah muttered, “but I really can’t at this point.”

_“It seems you have been busy while I was gone.”_

Myrrah tipped her head back, groaning. “You’ve sent us _legions_ of people!” she said, rubbing her face wearily. “People from places I’ve never even _heard_ of! And they all said you sent them. Did you know some of these people are mages?”

_“Are what?”_

“…mages…?” Myrrah stared incredulously at the Queen. “Magic wielders like yourself?”

_“….I did not know that.”_

“I mean, they aren’t as powerful, obviously, but they can. You know.” She mimed throwing something to the side.

_“I do not know, no.”_

“Fire,” Myrrah tried.

The Queen waited.

Myrrah mimed again. “Fire. Throwing fire. At things?”

_“I – I’m sorry, I don’t – _“

Emhlys could barely contain his laughter.

Myrrah looked as if she regretted bringing this up. “They, uh, they have magic. That’s really all that’s important.”

_“Do they know how to use it?”_

“I – maybe?”

_“Gather them and bring them to me.”_

Myrrah opened her mouth and shut it again.

_“What is it?”_

“What are you going to do with them? Some of them are really nice people.”

The Bright Queen paused, disturbed. _“What – what did you _think_ I was going to do?”_

Myrrah shrugged uncomfortably and didn’t answer.

_“I’m going to teach them. As my mother taught me, so my people will learn.”_

Myrrah gathered the mages. There were perhaps a hundred of them, some of them nervously standing at the edges of the Queen’s lair, some of them confidently in the middle.

The Queen perched on the trunk of one of the silver trees and addressed them. _“My generals have informed me that you possess magic.”_

The mages in front exchanged glances, then looked back to her. One of them –a tall, dark-skinned person wearing deep blue robes – stepped forwards.

“We are,” they proclaimed, looking up to the Queen with eyes so dark they were nearly black. “Though some of us are but fledglings.”

_“Give me your name.”_

The blue-robed figure knelt. “Erika,” they said, bowing their head. “I am a water-mage from the southern coast. I have seen you weaving your light across the land, and freeing the sea from the control of the Empress. I am with you.”

_“Erika,”_ the Queen murmured. _“You are familiar with magic._”

“Quite.”

_“All who are accomplished mages, stand at my right. All who are not, to my left.”_

The small crowd organized themselves. Erika took up a position by the Queen’s front legs.

_“Those of you who are not familiar with magic. I will teach you; Erika will assist me.”_

She wanted to use all of the resources she had. If she had mages, well, why wouldn’t she use them? She wasn’t about to let their lack of experience stop her.

Erika was primarily a sea-mage, but was skilled with all natural magic, and was more than willing to teach others. They became the Bright Queen’s third general.

Emhlys, Myrrah, Erika. Three was a good number; a strong number. The Queen did not want to push her luck.

Emhlys found her later, at dusk, when the sunset was filling the Wyrmwood with color and light. She was hunkered down at the base of one of her trees, thinking.

“So,” Emhlys said. “Tell me about the Leviathan.”

_“It is a powerful and ancient beast,”_ the Queen replied. _“Not as I or the Empress or the fae are powerful. But it is awful to behold. It is – what? Why are you making faces at me?”_

“I’m not, it’s just – “ Emhlys shook his head, expression caught between bafflement and understanding. “For – well, always, really, I’ve only ever heard you speak in my mind. To hear your voice out loud – it’s weird, is all.”

_I can switch back if you like._

“You don’t need to, I was just saying it’s strange.” Emhlys folded his arms, leaning back against a tree. “But go on. I didn’t mean to distract.”

_It is a giant eel,_ the Queen whispered to him, not bothering to speak out loud. _It lives in a chasm atop a dragon’s bones. Its mouth could have swallowed me whole. It makes deals; the Empress traded her name to it for the mastery over her form that the Leviathan plucked from the dragon. And now I –_

She stopped.

Emhlys raised an eyebrow. “And now you?”

She remained silent.

His expression fell to concern. “Sister?”

A mistake. She hadn’t intended to mention this, not really.

“…what did you do?”

_“I had no choice,”_ she blurted, out loud, shifting her body into a defensive position. _“It was the only way. The only offer it would accept for Her name!”_

“Whoa, whoa,” Emhlys said, hands up as if he were calming a skittish horse. “I’m not accusing you of anything, and I’m not mad. What happened? Tell me.”

_I traded with it,_ the Queen managed. _Her name for one success._

“For… what?”

_One success. Something in the future. Something small – not defeating the Empress. But something that could be important. I’ll fail it, and there’s nothing I can do about that. I had nothing else to give; and I needed Her name, I did, I do, but I don’t know what I’ll fail and it’s making me nervous. Because it might affect someone else, and I’m worried that my deal will fall to be another’s burden. Because giving something without knowing what you’re giving is dangerous even in the slightest respects._

Emhlys remained silent for a moment. The Queen remained motionless while he tapped a finger on his chin in thought.

“Well, that’s not so bad,” he finally said, shrugging. “Could be worse.”

_…what?_

“Why worry about it?” Emhlys shrugged. “It’s done. And if it’s not the Empress, it doesn’t really matter. Everything goes uphill after Her.”

_Perhaps._ she wondered what it would be, then. Perhaps some great act of magic? But no, it was something small.

She had no way of knowing, but she would find out someday.

“I think it was worth it,” Emhlys said, leaning back again. “Personally. You’ve done so much now that you’re able to bind her.”

_I hope it will be enough in the end._

“Always so fatalistic.”

The time was nearing when she would have to face the Empress; darklings and dark beasts pushed against her boundaries and could not break through. She heard that even the Empress had tried to shatter part of her wall, but that the weaving had stood strong, and that She was preparing for a greater assault.

The Queen’s army was not perfect, but they were strong together, and they believed in her. That was nearly enough.

But despite the fact that she had her army, and she had the Empress’ name, there was one thing she could not control: the land itself.

A messenger arrived, a human on one of the swift fae steeds, gasping for breath and eyes distant and haunted. “Queen,” xi managed, barely staying on their horse as it skidded to a halt in the clearing of the Queen’s Lair.

_“Rider?”_

“The Empress.” Xi gulped air for a moment, brushing black hair out of xir face. “She – She has broken the earth, She has turned the land against us – “

_“Easy,”_ the Queen murmured, moving closer. The messenger passed out and fell off xir horse, but woke up seconds later, in the Queen’s grasp. Xi could barely move. _“Careful. Do not speak too quickly. Take your time.”_

“No time,” xi choked out. “She broke the land. Chasms. Storms. She won’t let us get close. We can’t get to Her.”

The Queen had to see this for herself. She left the messenger in the care of her healers and traced xir path back through the Wyrmwood, to the meadows and outlying villages, through the valley and towards the eastern coast.

There was a chasm cut through the earth. The land had split apart; dirt and trees had dropped into the abyss, and there was only darkness below. The Queen thought that perhaps she could make out the barest hint of light in the depths. That was not good.

Beyond, darkness. Fog crowded the land; storms were gathering above. The Empress was not pleased by the Queen’s progress, it seemed.

The Queen could not address these issues on her own. She could take herself across the gap, through the storm, through the fog, but she could not bring her entire army like that.

No, for that, she needed the Lords of the Land.

She did not know how to call for them. She knew it could be done, but she did not know how.

Fortunately, she had a very knowledgeable new source of information: Erika.

“The Lords of the Land,” Erika said, and nodded, when the Queen asked them. “Yes. Yes, I am familiar with them. Natural mages must be; we use the magic of the land, not of the realm like you do. You touch all things and call to them. We are beneath the Lords, and must answer to them. You’re right; they will be the ones who are able to combat this… this abuse of the land.” They wrinkled their nose; they were as disgusted with the Empress’ mistreatment of the earth as the Queen was. “The magic She is performing is an abomination. The Lords can heal the world, make it whole again.”

_“How can I speak with them?”_

“Each holds their own realm,” Erika explained. “They have their homes, their territories. It is very difficult to find them. If you can find them, you can call a Council of the Land, and they will come. Then you may speak to them.”

The Queen thought about this for a moment. _“To find one,”_ she murmured. _“I know where to go.”_

“You know – where to find one of the Lords of the Land?” Erika seemed startled, confused. “How?”

_“She tried to kill me, once.”_

“What did you do?!”

_“It was not her fault, nor was it mine. She is poisoned; her mind is controlled by the Empress.”_

Erika seemed extremely concerned now. They opened their mouth and said nothing, eyes flicking over the Queen’s.

_“We must go to free her. She has waited too long for this. Come.”_


	16. The Spider and the Serpent

She had chosen her day well; the sun blazed down over the land, and the spring heat had not yet swelled to discomfort.

The Bright Queen had brought the fae scouting unit and some of her mages with her. Emhlys and Myrrah were not there – they were busy preparing the army – but Erika was.

These forces were a precaution only – shew as certain she could handle this challenge, but she had to be prepared in case she was not.

She had to be ready. One did not tangle with a Lord of the Land on a whim. She was facing down the Lady of the Serpent’s Rocks.

The boulders still piled up higher than she could reach, but it was smaller than she remembered – her perception had been warped by how young she had been. Now, older and experienced, she could sense the lurking presence of the Lady below.

She reached out with her mind, her mages and scouts behind her. _“Good and noble Lady of the Land, I call on you to speak to me now.”_

No response but that slow, roiling anger. The Queen took a hesitant step forwards towards the Rocks.

_“I remember you,”_ she called. _“We have met, once before. I would have died but for my brother and his scouts. Now I return to call you back from the deepness in which you dwell.”_

No answer. The Queen shifted, wary, and felt her accompaniment do the same. It was clear that the Lady felt her presence, but it seemed that she did not want to come out and face her.

Very well. The Queen would _force_ her out.

She turned to her allies. _“Go around,”_ she told them. _“I will try and bring her my way, but be ready in case she – “_

Her only warning was a surge in the dark, amorphous anger that seethed below. She felt it spike outwards and barely had time to turn before the Lady impacted against her shield.

The Serpent’s Rocks were smaller than she had remembered. The Serpent was not.

When she had been young, she had perceived the Serpent as a presence and the color of snakeskin. Now, she could see her entire body, the sinuous muscle under the scales, the broad head. The Lady was probably the same size as the Queen, but no less dangerous for it.

She recoiled, hissing furiously, blackened eyes searching for a break in the Queen’s shield.

“My Lady!” Erika called, drawing the Queen’s attention. They were pointing towards the burrow.

_“Seal it,”_ the Queen ordered.

Erika nodded and sent a thread of water whipping upwards. It wrapped around a boulder and they yanked hard; it came crashing down, half-crushing part of the Lady’s body with it. She screamed in pain and struck out again at the Queen. The ground shook with her distress.

Even turned to nothing, she still affected the land around her.

The Queen waited. Around her, her scout riders charged; they surrounded her and the Serpent in two spinning rings, moving opposite directions so that the Serpent could not escape.

She was out of her burrow, wounded, and angry. She struck at the Queen a third time.

And the Queen caught her.

She stepped backwards, then reached up and grasped the Serpent’s head with her ropes of golden light, twisting her strike off course and sending her skewing to the right. As the head passed by, the Queen lifted one leg and clamped one paw around the base of her skull, then stamped it into the dirt.

The Serpent thrashed wildly. The Queen had trouble keeping hold of her and moved to stand atop her body, but the Serpent’s massive tail kept battering her legs.

_“Restrain her!”_ the Queen called, trying to hold the Serpent in place with silk and light.

Her mages caught the Serpent’s body with shimmering ropes of magic, vines, soil, water, anything they could reach. The Queen felt the Serpent’s struggles grow weaker and let out a breath.

Slowly, she and her mages covered the Serpent’s entire body, and she could release her neck for a moment. The Serpent hissed up at her, black eyes blazing, and the Queen felt a seed of doubt sprout in her mind. Was the Lady even still in there?

Erika had said the Lords could not truly die. She had to be.

The Queen reached out and touched the Serpent’s mind.

It was a miasma of pain and shadow. The Queen recoiled and nearly lost contact, but managed to hold herself in place. She needed to find the Serpent and pull her out of there, then either contain or eject the remaining darkness. She would have to really get into this.

Turning, she spoke to Erika. _“I must delve into her mind. I will not be able to defend against possible attack – “_

“It’s alright, my Queen,” they interrupted, holding up a hand. “As you have protected us, so we will do for you.”

_“Thank you.”_

Erika bowed their head and faced the mages. “Shield the Queen,” they ordered.

The mages formed a swift, if haphazard, circle, and together raised a shimmering multicolored barrier. The scouts were outside of it; they positioned themselves around the edges of the bubble and faced outwards. The Queen could spot each mage’s individual magic contributing to the whole construction and she felt a glow of pride.

But she did not have the time to admire or praise them. She looked back to the Serpent, twitching on the ground, and readied herself.

Then she dove into her mind.

The Lady had to be here somewhere. She had to be – but it felt terrible here, like the abyss of the Empress, like that falling feeling when She had drained the world into Herself at the Golden Wood.

The Bright Queen pulled herself together and remembered the Empress’ name. She did not say it – not yet. _“I banish you from this place, from this mind. You do not own this creature. You do not control her. No one should but she herself. Begone.”_

Wordless recoil from the darkness, anger, and far away, a cold and calculating presence that was abruptly much closer after a few seconds. Oh, the Empress was watching through this one.

The Queen would not use the name if she didn’t have to. _“Release her,”_ she demanded.

A slow, vicious snarl. “Or what?”

The Empress was not just watching.

_“Or I will force you to leave.”_

Laughter. It echoed in this void, around the Queen; she almost flinched as it shattered against her carapace, making her blood vibrate.

“Force me out? Force _me_ out? What makes you think you could do that?”

_“I have confidence in my ability to combat your dark influence,”_ the Queen replied, barely keeping herself from trembling. She raised her pedipalps and bared her fangs to the darkness. _“The Serpent will be freed regardless of whether or not you wish to allow it.”_

“A bold claim,” the Empress sneered, “for one who couldn’t even save a simple fae.”

_“You try to blame me for something that was in no way any fault of mine. I feel no guilt for that kill. I bear no burden of shame.”_ That was true. Verilian’s death could not have been prevented. Trying to cure him only would have led to further suffering before his inevitable end.

“But it is something that you could have prevented if only you had the power,” the Empress crooned. “You may weave your webs, put up your walls, but you cannot fight me… little weaver.”

The Queen was prepared to counter the Empress’ accusations and falsehoods, but Círdnanh’s nickname for her in the Empress’ cold tones took her breath away for a moment. It returned filled with fire. How dare the Empress taint those words? The very first title she had ever had, born of love and kindness? How _dare_ She utter those sounds?

She could only imagine how bad it would be if she had a true name.

_“I am coming for you, Empress,”_ she snarled. _“Once I free the Lady of the Serpent’s Rocks, we will find you. You cannot run from me. You cannot hide yourself from me.”_

“I do not need to.”

_“We will find you. I will find you.”_

“I do love a challenge,” the Empress purred, and the Queen caught a glimpse in the dark of night-black fur and white claws. The Empress’ true form, Her favorite form – a massive black cat.

_“I am that challenge.”_

The Queen thought for a moment. The Empress didn’t know that Her name was no longer a secret, and the Queen didn’t want to reveal that unless she absolutely had to. She could drive the Empress out with that name. But if she could somehow force the Empress out without fighting Her…

…or trick Her into leaving.

She seemed omniscient, but if She were, She would have known about the Queen’s visit to the Leviathan, or to Cloudfall. But it seemed that the sea had not seen it fit to tell Her.

Curious.

_“I and my people,”_ she continued, desperately trying to think of a way to convince the Empress to leave, or trick Her into falling off balance and being easily knocked out of the Serpent’s mind. _“We are that challenge. The last and greatest challenge you will ever face.”_

“You think you are the first to face me?”

_“I think I will be the last.”_

“But those who came before you. You know their fates.”

_“They were destroyed.” _The Queen felt something. A faint presence, a sinuous force beneath the black.

_Serpent?_

The feeling shivered.

“Yes! Yes, my dear spiderling, they were.” The Empress shifted in the darkness. “Utterly destroyed. They, and their tiny armies.”

_“You fed them to the sea.”_ Keep Her talking, the Queen thought, and the thought was not her own.

“Some, yes,” the Empress sighed nonchalantly. “Others, no.”

_“What did you do to them?”_

“Their bones will _never_ be found.” Her voice was softer than soot, scraping into a growl at the lower registers.

_(Be with me,)_ she whispered to the feeling, grateful once again for the strain of Círdnanh’s lessons, the Queen’s insistence that she learn how to speak to multiple people at a time, show two faces at once. _(Follow me. I am here to help.)_

To the Empress, she spoke again. _“What makes you think I am weaker than they were?”_

“What makes you think you are stronger?”

_“I am with this world. I am part of it, and it is me.”_

_(The darkness will smother you no longer. Add your strength to mine. I can contain her if we both attack.)_

“That’s it? Really? You’re going to base your entire crusade on that?” The Empress snorted. “Anyone with enough dedication can claim this world as theirs and use its power as their own. I just happen to be the best at it. The strongest… contestant, if you will.”

_“That’s not what I do. It’s not the same. I do not abuse the magic of this world.”_

“It’s not abuse, spider, I protect the – what are you doing?”

_(Out of time,)_ the Queen murmured. _(On my signal...)_

The Empress was expecting an outwards push. The Queen gave Her one – a weak surge that hit the darkness and did nothing. Her presence swelled and loomed overhead like a storm cloud.

“Very clever, trying to distract me and let that worm escape. But you cannot possibly – “

_Now,_ the Queen called, and pulled.

The Serpent pulled with her. The Empress, pushing inwards and caught completely unawares, lost Her balance and fell.

The Queen spun a net around her presence and contained it, linking the golden strands of her webbing together with points of brilliant light.

The Empress snarled and clawed at the net, but it held, and the Queen wrapped her double in ropes of golden radiance. The Serpent struck and latched on, coiling around the bundle, and began to squeeze.

_“Easy,”_ the Queen murmured. _“She cannot be killed here, like this. You must rid yourself of this perilous presence and return to the world above. Do not linger here.”_

A spike of that familiar anger, but bright, and quickly tempered by knowledge and awareness. The Serpent let go; the piece of the Empress invested in her growled and struck out at them, but could do nothing.

_“Come back to us,”_ the Queen urged. _“Come back to us, to your world. The land needs you. The realm needs you. We all need you.”_

She pulled back. The Serpent came with her, and when she shook herself fully awake, she found the Serpent motionless beneath her paws.

She stepped off. _“Great Lady, are you – “_

The Serpent stirred. She seemed to awaken and rose up, confused, shaking off the ropes that held her down. After a moment she lowered her head and convulsed violently several times, then spat out a glob of thick, viscous black ooze.

When she raised her head again, only the echo of the Empress remained. “Thank you,” she said, green eyes clear once more – clearer than the Queen had ever seen them. “It has been a long time since I have been able to speak to someone. Longer still since I have thought clearly, or control myself.” She paused, scrutinizing the Queen. “I remember you.”

_“Yes.”_

“A tiny, golden spiderling,” she murmured. “So small I barely felt your presence. But the darkness within me… wanted me to destroy you.” Sorrow clouded her features. “I am sorry. I did not mean to hurt you.”

_“It’s alright. It was never your fault.”_ The Queen took a step forward and bowed her body, forgiving her. _“And if you had not, I never would have met my family. I never would have become what I am now. So I thank you, and in a way, I thank the Empress.”_ She laughed. _“She was reckless, to put me where I could speak to the fae. But She did not know how that would change the future.”_

“I see you have grown into something new,” the Serpent murmured, coiling her body up. She stopped halfway – she was badly injured. “Ah – perhaps, if you might – “

_“Oh! Yes.”_ The Queen paused, glanced around. _“My mages - ”_

The Bright Queen was not a healer. She stepped back and waited while several of her mages hurried forwards to where the Serpent’s bones were crushed and focused on them. They seemed nervous, casting glances over to the great creature they had been fighting moments before, but the Serpent did not strike at them. They imbued the injured area with the magic of the land and repaired the destroyed flesh, fused the bones together, knitted the skin together and replaced broken scales with new ones.

When they were done, the Serpent sighed in relief and coiled herself up into a comfortable heap of loops. “So,” she said finally. “I am in your debt, twice over. I owe your for my attack, and I owe you for saving me.”

_“You do not owe me,”_ the Queen countered. _“I am doing what is right.”_

“Yet you want something of me.”

_“This is true. I need your help.”_

“I will give it. Whatever you require.”

The Queen paused. After a few moments, she said, _“I will need you to be with me. But you could fall again.”_

“I could.” The Serpent nodded.

_“Is there a name I could use to call you back? Something that is not too powerful, but would be used only for good by me and my people?”_

The Serpent paused, glancing over at the scouts and the mages. She seemed to see them for the first time and cocked her head to the side.

“Tirron,” she said finally. “Call me Tirron. It is not my true name, but it is true enough. Call it with intent and I will come. What is this task you need me for?”

_“I need you to call a Council of the Land.”_ The Queen risked a glance over at Erika to see if this was correct; Erika gave the barest hint of a nod, and the Queen relaxed.

Tirron took a long, slow breath, and let it out slowly, flicking her tongue out. “This I can do,” she said, nodding. “But the Council’s decisions may not be to your liking.”

_“It does not matter. I must speak with them regardless.”_

“Then I will do it. They will come to me when I call; they cannot resist it. The one thing I was able to avoid doing while the Empress controlled me.” She swelled with pride. “She could not force me to bring them to me. She wanted them; She had me, and She wanted more. But I would not – _could_ not – call them under Her influence.”

_“A boon,”_ the Queen agreed. _“If She had the Lords of the Land on her side, her control would be absolute.”_

“Is it not?”

_“No,”_ the Queen said, startled. _“Can you not feel it? The land is free. I have been weaving webs across the entirety of Sylvach to free it from Her control. She is restricted to the eastern coast and the sea now – She cannot control the woods or fields now. I have been cutting Her off from that which She uses to wield magic. If She has not land to drain… Her power is weak.”_

After a few seconds, Tirron nodded. “Perhaps,” she murmured, eyes unfocused. “She is… oh, you speak the truth. You really have driven Her out of the land, as well as you can. Even now Her creatures cower in fear of your light.” She refocused her eyes and turned them on the Queen. “You are what you say you are, Bright Queen. I will call them.”

_“Thank you.”_

“Wait here.”


	17. Council of the Land

When Tirron called the Council, the land itself replied to her.

The Queen had quarantined the glob of the Empress’ poison that Tirron had vomited out; no one was to touch it save her, since she was immune to its effects.

Tirron stretched her long form across the ground. She was easily nine times the length of the Queen, and when she stretched her head to the sky and sent sound through the earth, the Queen felt her power. She was ancient and young all at once; she had inherited the position of the Lady from her mother, as most Lords did, for though the land made them long-lived, none were immortal.

Tirron called. The Queen felt the pulse extend through the land; she felt it whisk away, passing by her web locus points, underneath the southern sand and the northern ice and even through the Wyrmwood.

And the Lords of the Land responded.

The first to appear was a black condor, wide wings sending eddies through the cloudstuff overhead. He wheeled in circles above, waiting to land; a heron came next, and a swan, and a pair of swifts and a brilliant macaw.

That was the sky, and it was only the beginning. The Queen saw two different bats arrive, wings fluttering softly in the spring sky. A rabbit the size of a mastiff appeared from the grass, and a massive wolverine stalked out of the trees to the north. It seemed that the Lords would come as quickly as they could, and that distance meant nothing to any of them.

Creatures of all types appeared, one by one, settling near or on the Rocks, or on the ground elsewhere. The Queen gathered her scouts and mages near to her so they would not be afraid.

It seemed like hours before the stream of creatures stopped, and Tirron put her head down, but the sun had barely moved in the sky. The Queen noticed that no one had come from the east.

“Who calls the Council?” the condor said, raising his head. He bore a fleshy black crest on his face, and a ruff of white feathers at the base of his neck; his wings, wide sweeps of black, were colored with broad swathes of striking white feathers.

“I do,” Tirron answered, raising her head. “Something must be done.”

“And what is that?” asked the rabbit, carefully pulling grooming one ear.

“Something must be done about the Blue Empress.”

Murmurs went through the assembled Lords. Many of them seemed to be muttering to each other.

The condor spread his wings and flapped once, silencing the group. “What do you mean?”

“She has controlled me for many years,” Tirron began, demanding attention from her audience. “She poisoned my body, and then my mind. I was unable to act – but I did not call you, for She would have taken you as well. I have been freed by the Bright Queen of Sylvach, to whom I owe my life.”

The Queen did not bow. She wanted these beings to do something for her, and at this point, she was not going to take no for an answer. She needed to reach the coast. Her army had to be with her.

The condor tilted his head to the side. “Speak,” he said to the Queen, “if you have a request of us. If you do not, stay silent, and leave.”

_“I do have something I want from you,”_ she said carefully. _“I am the Bright Queen. I have spent my life learning how to fight the Blue Empress. I believe I can defeat Her; I have Her name, and I have cut the land off from Her power. I have woven nets across Sylvach that She cannot break through. The walls are too strong. I have gathered an army to fight against her creatures and her darklings; She will not break through. My people are too strong. But She has broken the land that we must traverse, and that I cannot remedy. I need you to help me repair the world, and allow my army access to the coast.”_

She took a breath. Now to convince them that the plan – which still wasn’t perfectly solid – would work. _“From the coast we will ensnare Her city and trap Her within it, and kill Her. That is our plan. I can seal Her inside Her lair if I reach Her city. I will make it so She may never escape. If She chooses to flee before that, we can pursue Her, but I doubt She will; the only place She can go is the land, which I have sealed against Her.”_

The Lords judged her silently, each regarding her with their own wary gaze.

_“I need your help. I cannot defeat the Empress if I cannot bring my army to Her shores.”_

“I will help her,” Tirron said, raising her head up. “I will do my best to close the chasms that She has wrought across the land. But I cannot control the skies, or the rivers, or the sea or the fog. She needs us.”

The condor was silent.

The swifts exchanged a glance. “We will assist,” one of them chirped, tilting its head to the side. Its dark eyes sparked in the sunlight. “We used to bring the storms. Now She brings the storms. She should not have that power; we will take it from Her and return it to the land. She does unnatural things to the sky.”

“This is true,” the condor murmured.

“But,” a fox on the other side of the circle piped up, “we’ve been keeping the land healthy under her rule, making sure it’s livable. If we die, what happens to our land, if we have no successors? We can’t risk it. We can’t risk Sylvach dying.”

“This is also true,” the condor said, dipping his head towards the fox.

Tirron shook her head. “If we fail to fight the Empress, the land will die anyways,” she said.

“Says who?” the fox countered. The rabbit, next to the fox, glanced over. The fox continued. “She hasn’t destroyed the land before now. The only reason She did it is because of the Queen! If the Queen weren’t causing issues, the Empress wouldn’t take it out on the land.”

_“She breaks the land because She is afraid of me,”_ the Queen said, and knew that this too rang with truth. _“She does not want me to reach her. She knows that I will kill her. She knows that She is wrong.”_

“But She’s _never_ done anything like this before,” the fox snapped, flicking its tail-tip back and forth. “Never!”

Near the Queen, the wolverine growled. Everyone glanced over. Wordlessly, it lumbered out of its place and over to the Queen, then sat next to her. She glanced at it; it stared back, fierce dark eyes gleaming.

A moose, which had been standing next to it, carefully stepped over. “What my good companion here means to say,” he said, “is that we are with you, Bright Queen. She has not attacked the northern forests, but we saw you as you passed through them. We heard Her story. As evidenced by Her attack on Lady Tirron, She is not satisfied with what She currently has. I do not trust Her to remain static. I believe She will push outwards – more so, should She defeat the Queen.”

Those words put a moment of pure, icy fear into the Queen’s heart. She felt panic for a moment – could she lose?

She had always assumed, somewhere in her heart, that she would win.

“So we must assist her,” the moose continued, unaware of the reaction his words had caused. “And in doing so, we will save ourselves as well as our world.”

The wolverine growled again.

Silence.

After a few seconds, just as the Queen was about to speak up, someone else did, to her left. She looked over and saw a bear, fur black as night but eyes the deepest brown she had ever seen.

“Have you not had your lands touched by the shadow?” xi rumbled, looking back and forth. “Have you not had your kind warped by Her touch? Is there any one amongst us who has been unaffected by Her control over this world?”

Silence.

“I will stand with you, Queen,” the bear said. “I am the Lord Aulan, of the foothills of the mountains just to the north. I saw what you did, how you grew to who you are. I saw you fight one of my kin in the late summer and end his suffering. I know you.”

The bear that had injured Verilian, the one she had tracked with Emhlys. She remembered.

“I am with you.”

_“Thank you, Lord Aulan,”_ she murmured, genuinely grateful. _“And thank you…”_

“Lord Ville,” the moose supplied, bowing his head. “And my companion is Lady Eska.”

The Queen dipped her body in thanks to them.

The fox tipped their nose up. “I will _not_ be joining this foolhardy mission,” they sniffed. “I will be _safe_ and _unacquainted_ with all of you who go, and die. I wish you would not do this, for you doom yourselves and your lands.”

“Come with us,” Tirron urged. “Our chances are greater together.”

“No, they aren’t,” the fox snapped, and stood. “Good _day_.”

With that, they turned and vanished into the grass, flicking their tail as they went. The other Lords watched them go.

“I will also not be joining you,” the macaw said, and when the others turned to stare, she pulled her head back. “Not because I do not want to! But because I cannot help.”

“What do you mean?”

“My land is far from here, and I am weak away from it. There is nothing I could do.”

“Surely the storms are something that you can control,” Tirron argued, nosing forwards.

The macaw shook her head. “I am a tropical creature,” she explained, cautiously. “These are northern storms. These are beyond my power. These belong to Skaldra.”

All turned to the condor. He dipped his head in acknowledgement.

“The swifts rule the fronts,” he said, “but I govern what lies within. The clear skies belong to Synden, my cousin, who did not come with me because he sees what lies ahead. He also knows that he cannot help us. He told only me to come. The rain belongs to Maalkul.” He nodded towards the heron, who nodded back. “This is not rain. The fog is yours, Ville, and yours, Eska. We are the ones that must go.”

“How fortunate that you are the ones that want to go,” the rabbit hummed, miffed. “I am very much with Balax. I will not be with you.”

Tirron seemed worried. “Aulan, can you and I alone close the gap in the earth?”

Aulan thought. “Yes,” xi said, after a moment. “We can.”

“But…”

“Feel the strength in the land,” Aulan growled. “It has never been this powerful, not since before Sylvach was united. And even then, it was split apart. There was almost no Council then. We did not trust each other. Now we do. Now things are different. With the land strong, we are strong. The Empress has weakened, but because of the Queen, we have grown.”

Tirron nodded. “I understand,” she said. “Bright Queen, by cutting the Empress off, you have freed us more than we could ever know or understand.”

_“Good. That was my intention, though I did not know the specifics of it.”_

The macaw bowed her head. “I am not needed here,” she said. “I will take my leave.”

“With you may go all who are not committed to the Queen,” Skaldra ordered, looking around at the assembled Lords. “Those that are, remain here, with me.”

The rest of the Council began to disperse. Skaldra remained where he was on the rocks, watching. The swifts stayed as well; Maalkul flapped away on wide blue wings, swimming his way through the sky. The rabbit disappeared into the grasses; the rest of the council drifted away, some of them visibly vanishing into thin air.

Eventually, only Skaldra, Ville, Eska, Aulan, Tirron, and the swifts were left. The Queen was having trouble remembering all their names; there were so many creatures of great power here and it was baffling to her.

_“Forgive me in advance,”_ she said, _“if I forget your name.”_

“Do not worry,” Skaldra said, tucking his head into his feathers. “There are many Lords, and one cannot be expected to remember all of us. Someday, perhaps, but not today.”

“When do we march?” Tirron asked, turning to the Queen.

She froze. She hadn’t been expecting that question today. Erika, at her side, glanced up at her.

_“Soon,”_ she said. _“Erika, is my army ready?”_

“The mages could use more training,” they answered honestly, “but mages could _always_ use more training. If we do not want the Empress to build more strength, we should strike now. She will be trying very, _very_ hard to kill you now that you have freed Lady Tirron.”

True. The Queen turned to the Lords.

Skaldra dipped his head. “Soon,” he said. “We will remain nearby. Tirron, call us when the time comes.”

He spread his massive wings and took off into the sky. The tips of his feathers brushed the treetops and the wind from his passage swept across them like a gale.

Eska and Ville vanished into the northern trees; Aulan stayed in the edge of the Wyrmwood, and the swifts were gone in an instant, darting up into the clouds.

When they were gone, Tirron turned to the Queen, flicking her tongue excitedly. “That went far better than I expected it would!” she exclaimed, eyes bright. “Thank you.”

_“…it did?”_ the Queen was disheartened by the number of Lords who had left.

“Yes! I didn’t expect _anyone_ to aid us.” She looked to the east. “But we have help. And we will need it.”

_“We will.”_ the Queen took a breath. _“But our time of preparation, of waiting, is over. The first stone has fallen; we must hurry now to avoid the landslide.”_

They looked to the east. A storm was forming.

_“Or we will be destroyed.”_


	18. The Spider Queen

They had a week. The Queen sent messages out; she called people from all over Sylvach to help her. Those that she had spoken to, those she had protected. The people who had spread the word of her presence across the land. She called to them now, asking them to take up arms if they could.

And they came to her.

The daughter of Círdnanh, the Queen of Sylvach. They came to her, to the Wyrmwood, and it was only those who could fight – the army did not need those who would only injure themselves. No, they needed Myrrah’s brave soldiers, Emhlys’ scouts and rangers could ride in cavalry, and the mages Erika had rigorously trained.

And, of course, the Queen herself.

She was startled when they arrived. They called her name when they saw her – they called many names.

“Bright Queen!”

“Golden Queen!”

They spoke of her to each other. Their faces lit up when they saw her.

“It’s the Queen!”

“Look, look, the Wyrmwood Queen is here.”

“There she is! The Bright Queen!”

Her people believed in her. They named her as their queen. They named her.

“The Spider Queen!”

That one caught her attention.

_“What other queen would there be?”_ she asked Myrrah, one night.

“Uh,” Myrrah said, raising an eyebrow. “Well, all the historical queens and whatnot from before the Empress. And your mom.”

_“My – “_ The Spider Queen paused. _“My mother?”_

“You think Emhlys hasn’t been telling stories about her?” Myrrah rolled her eyes. “He talks about her _constantly._ Almost as much as he talks about you.”

The Queen laughed. _“I doubt that,”_ she said. _“He won’t ever stop talking about me, even to me.”_

“Well, he does it to everyone, you can be sure of that. He really loves you, you know.”

_“I do know. He is my most beloved brother; I love him in turn.”_ She settled down, mirror patches expanding. _“I would willingly die for him.”_

“He’d do the same for you.”

_“I hope it never happens. It is much better when we are both alive.”_

“I’ll say.”

She and Emhlys did some last-minute training together – she would be riding with all three of her generals alongside her. Emhlys, Erika, and Myrrah. All would be mounted. Erika would be behind her, Emhlys on her left, Myrrah on her right. This they already knew. And her army would be behind her. With luck, the Lords would be with her – Tirron and Aulan out front, Eska and Ville off to the sides, Skaldra and the swifts above.

They had one week, and then they marched.

The morning was awful. The clouds were thick and black and no light could get through – the Spider Queen was certain that it was because of the Empress.

Fog crept around the edges of the Wyrmwood, making it nearly impossible to see out of. Her army gathered in the darkness nervously, lighting small flames and miniature torches, or summoning globes of soft glowing light to guide them.

“Form up!” Myrrah called, over the masses. Her soldiers immediately obeyed; she rode one of the fae horses and cantered along their line on the edge of the Wyrmwood as they massed in the damp meadow. The horse shimmered, even in this unnatural dusk.

It did not get lighter. It was as if the Empress had truly put out the sun; and even though the Queen knew something of such magnitude was far beyond Her power, it was still chilling.

The fog swirled in front of them. The Queen stepped out ahead of her army and took up her position; Emhlys, Erika, and Myrrah joined her.

Tirron and Aulan came as well, Tirron from her rocks, Aulan from the woods. “It is time,” Tirron murmured, eyes ahead. “We go now to face our glory or our doom. Together we may determine what the future is; but one misstep and our fate will change.”

The Spider Queen reached out. _Ville. Eska._

She felt them, out there, waiting.

_Begin clearing the fog. The Empress may have changed the land in the night without us noticing; I do not want to lose my army to Her traps. Be cautious, for She may have laid traps for you as well._

Immediately the fog began to disappear, sweeping out of the way in gusts of wind, sucking backwards into something. The army began to move forwards as the Queen took a few steps. It was oddly silent aside from the sound of their marching feet and the horses, whinnying occasionally, or stepping on stones. The fae ones still chimed whenever they touched the ground, but it was barely audible; they seemed to understand the air of silence and reverence about this march.

The fog continued to roll away. In the forest to her left, the Queen occasionally caught a glimpse of a many-legged beast like a moose, head rising far above the canopy top, many eyes glimmering softly in the false dusk. It was dripping with moss and lichen and when it breathed, the fog turned to frost.

On the right, she could spot a roiling mass of fur and claws, barely controlled hunger and fury inside a case of flesh. It devoured the fog, and looked forwards to devouring something worse. The dark beasts and darklings would not harm this one – it would consume them as it had with so many other things.

“Be careful,” Tirron whispered to the Spider Queen. “Ville and Eska may seem very cordial, but they are some of the oldest of the Lords. Do not look too closely at them. Do not invoke them. Those are not their real names, or even names that have even the slightest bit of power. They frighten even me, and we are allies.”

The Queen snuck another glance at the antlered form in the forest; it seemed to be moving through the trees, but she could hear no crashing of branches, no cracking of wood. She couldn’t tell how many limbs it had, or how many points on its arcing antlers really existed. It seemed to shift occasionally, outline blurring, altering itself. She wondered if this were an illusion, or if this was its true form. Or perhaps this was a halfway point, and the true form was something worse.

She did not look back to Eska. That chaotic, whirling presence nearly cut her mind when she reached out to sense it; she did not look.

_“I will not tangle with them,”_ she murmured. _“I understand your concern. Thank you for the warning.”_

Onwards. The fog began to clear completely, ahead of them; she saw fissures running through the fields. She had been correct. The Blue Empress had torn the valley apart during the night in an attempt to deter them.

She was not frightened. She was ready. _“Aulan?”_

The bear nodded and lumbered forwards ahead of the army. The Queen stopped; Myrrah called the halt command and the army went still.

As Aulan went forward, xi also changed, form warping and growing larger. By the time xi reached the first fissure, xir body was twice the size, and xir claws were long and sharp and a perfect white. Xi still looked like a bear – just a very _large_ bear, with what seemed to be extra limbs sprouting from xir front legs.

Xi reared up and slammed xir front legs – all four of them – into the ground, burying xir claws as deep into the ground as xi could. Slowly, the ground began to slip forwards, almost seeming to melt into shape, and in the fissures torn through the ground the ground flowed in and filled it up.

This effect rippled through the valley, spreading to the east; as far as the Queen could see, the great cracks in the ground closed, evening out the surface of the ground all the way to where the fog still lay.

Aulan ripped xir claws out of the ground after a moment and sat back, viewing xir work. “It should be safe,” xi growled, dropping down and padding back. “We continue.”

The Queen took a step on the newly filled ground. It held; it was as solid as any other part of the earth. She stepped over it and kept going.

“Forward!” Myrrah called, voice echoing over the army. They spurred into action.

Emhlys nudged Spire a little closer to the Queen. “Have you seen something off to the left?” he whispered, one eyebrow raised.

_“It’s Ville. Do not look.”_

“Oh, that’s our friend?” He grinned. “Great! If it terrifies us, surely it should put some fear into the hearts of our enemies… if they still have them. What of the black beast? Lady… Eska, I believe?”

_“Do not look to the right. They are far, far worse than Ville.”_

Emhlys nodded. “Understood. I like it.”

Their conversation was cut short. Before them yawned the chasm that the Blue Empress had first torn in the world. It still had light glimmering at the bottom of it. The Queen stayed far from the edge.

Aulan turned to Tirron, white eyes piercing. “It’s your turn,” xi said, bowing xir head. “Show us what you can do.”

Tirron brought her head up. “Finally,” she murmured. “You have torn at me for years, Empress, and my land for longer. Today I will strike back and make my world whole.”

She slithered forwards, and as she went, her scales changed from the smooth ovals to thick, patterned stone plates that overlapped, running down her body like armor. Her head developed long horns that split backwards; when she glanced back, there was a third unblinking eye in the center of her forehead, set deep into the armor.

Turning towards the chasm, she pointed her nose towards the ground.

The land shook. This was no flowing earth – the entire world seemed to be moving all at once. Spire whinnied nervously and Erika’s horse danced beneath them. Myrrah calmed hers easily, but it still rolled its eyes fearfully as the ground trembled.

Slowly, the two sides of the chasm began to close in towards each other. Tirron shook with it; her whole body was trembling.

_“Do not be afraid,”_ the Queen called to her army. _“The way is opening for us.”_

The ground was closing. The Queen clung to the earth as it slipped forwards. The gap, which had been easily six times the length of the Queen’s body at least, closed rapidly, and finally slammed shut with a massive crash.

Tirron relaxed, gasping out a breath.

“There,” she managed, shaking her head. “That is my power; that is what I can do for you. I do not know if I will be able to help you much more.”

_“You have made it possible for me to reach my goal,”_ the Queen replied. _“That is more than enough. I am in your debt.”_

“No. My debt to you is not yet fulfilled.” Tirron’s green eyes blazed as she looked back to the Spider Queen, third eye – a deeper, dustier hue of green – staring. “I am still yours to command, for one more task.”

_“I do not have a task for you. Do not put yourself in harm’s way for us; you have done what I asked of you.”_

“Then I will stay near the back of your army, and defend from attack.”

_“That you may.”_

Tirron dipped her head and turned, slithering back around and whisking away behind the army. The Queen had almost forgotten what she was in the presence of the other Lords; she remembered now not to bargain with such creatures. It could be dangerous.

She stepped forwards once more and led her armies across the place where the chasm used to be. Ahead of them, the fog roiled; the storm had descended, and she could hear the crackling of thunder and see flashes as lightning spiked through the trees.

The Queen looked up to Skaldra, far above. He sensed her desire and swept down to land on the ground next to her.

_“This is your domain,”_ she told him, as he stepped forwards, tucking his head into his feathers. _“It is your turn. Do what you can with this.”_

“This is indeed what I have come with you to do,” Skaldra murmured, twisting his long neck to look back up at the sky.

With that, he turned and spread his wings, taking off. As he did so they seemed to grow longer; and the sweeps and strokes were slow, almost impossibly slow, to the point where as he swept his feathers down they brushed the opposite sides of the valley and his form filled the sky. The storm above roiled; over the edges of his wings appeared two dark streaks of lightning that bounced away into the clouds and vanished amongst the front. Skaldra swept upwards and took the storm with him. It clung to his wings and body, static crackling through his feathers and discharging into the air; he did not look back, but even so the Queen could see the gleam of the light that his eyes had become.

She looked away. Overhead, Skaldra took the storm upwards, ripping it away from the land. He was lord of the skies here; the Empress, unable to leech his power from the land, could not stop him.

The swifts darted around the edges of the storm, capturing any stray eddies of wind or cloud and herding them back into the main cloud like sheepdogs. They shot upwards as Skaldra departed.

The Queen moved forwards, path clear once more. And she saw before her the valley deepen, the slopes crowded with forest on both sides; and it was not her Wyrmwood, but a dense pine forest, shot through with swathes of hardwoods. She looked to the sides, and then ahead; for at the end of this valley, this long walk, lay the sea.


	19. Battlefield

“You know this is the end.”

Emhlys rode next to her. She sighed, a long exhalation through her spiricles. _“I know.”_

To the left, a roar echoed through the sky, scaling upwards from a deep bellow into a two-toned scream. The Queen glanced over and knew that Ville had encountered trouble.

“They come,” Emhlys observed.

_“Eska has no doubt also encountered the Empress’ forces.”_ The Queen reached out and felt Eska to the right, battling something. _“She fights. They come.”_

“This is the last battle.”

_“May it be in our favor.”_

Emhlys smiled. The Spider Queen loved that – he really had learned to turn his anger to something deadlier, and there was nothing more frightening than a laughing, lordly fae at war.

Their army was behind them. There were five miles to the coast.

_“And so we go.”_

She took the first step forwards in their final march. Emhlys beside her felt like a bonfire shining out. Myrrah on her other side was a smoldering coal; Erika, behind, was a wisp of milky smoke. A harbinger of danger.

The sky was dark. The Spider Queen could feel the Blue Empress in the storm, battling Skaldra. The storm was desperately trying to rain on them, slow their progress, halt them in their tracks. But Skaldra’s wings kept it at bay.

Myrrah, mounted, called her attention. The Queen looked over.

“The army is coming for us,” Myrrah said, flicking her gaze back and forth between the two sides of the valley. “This may be the last time I see you.”

_“I do not think that will be the case,”_ the Queen said, feeling strangely confident in her proclamation.

Myrrah arched an eyebrow. “Is that so?”

_“Yes.”_

“If only I had your certainty,” she muttered, shaking her head.

Such pessimism, even in the face of all they had accomplished. Humans were strange indeed, Myrrah foremost amongst them.

Well, they had yet to encounter the Empress in this final march. The Spider Queen remembered the first time she’d met the Empress – that deep, cold numbness that had gripped her when she saw that black-veiled woman, the way she had struggled to even think in Her presence, the sinister sharpness of her thoughts within Tirron’s mind.

No. She was stronger now than she ever had been before. Strong enough to resist the Blue Empress’ dynastic aura; strong enough to fight Her, to shield her army from Her.

And she had a weapon. The Empress’ origin, and Her name. She would bind the Empress and kill Her.

They advanced. Overhead, the storm clouds whirled, but Skaldra kept them under control. Between the rolls of thunder, the Queen could hear his wingbeats echoing across the great expanse.

Forwards, ever forwards. The Queen could sense darkness at the edges of her thoughts. Ville and Eska were no longer responding to the slightest prod; they were both occupied, and she got the idea that the darklings would reach them soon.

“This,” Emhlys murmured, as the valley further narrowed, “seems like a very good place for Her to ambush us.”

_“She is about to,”_ the Queen replied. _“Myrrah, ready.”_

“Eyes on the treeline!” Myrrah shouted, voice echoing back across the army. The soldiers and cavalry turned their attention outwards, towards the forest edges; the Queen could sense beasts lurking in the shadows, waiting on some unknown command. Myrrah narrowed her eyes at the forest, then drew her sword – a fae blade, shimmering metal, that she had forged with the help of one of the fae smiths in the scout troop that had stayed behind. “Ready your weapons!”

No sooner had she spoken than the roiling darkness burst out from the boulders and grass. Dark beasts and darklings, a flood of creatures, surged forwards, spilling out into the valley as the sky broke overhead.

The Spider Queen shielded.

Her entire army, for just a moment, was enveloped in a bubble of golden safety. As the wave of the creatures impacted, they bounced off the barrier – it only lasted a moment, but that moment was enough to abruptly halt their attack in a giant wavering ripple.

Her soldiers turned and fought. Blood and ichor soaked the soil.

Anyone wounded by the darklings would probably have to be left behind or killed, depending on how badly they were hurt. The Empress’ army retreated quickly, but left behind at least a hundred wounded.

A superb plan on Her part. All Her forces had to do was wound one of the Queen’s soldiers and they would be out of the battle. She could whittle down the Queen’s army in small attacks, and the Queen with it as she tried to shield them. Or she could sacrifice her forces to saver herself, and make it to the sea alone.

No. Her soldiers were better than that. They would not fall so easily. She led the rest forward, hoping that the ones who stayed behind would not be slaughtered.

_“Tirron,”_ she said, realizing she still had a resource at her command. _“Protect those that must be left behind. Do not let them die. They are wounded, but their poison will fade when the Empress perishes. Ensure that they are not unjustly killed before then. Shield them, then continue forwards to shield after later attacks.”_

_Understood,_ Tirron sent back, and the Queen let out another breath and forwards once more.

She could feel the attacks just as they came. They were on her land; she knew where these dark beasts were.

They surged forwards, and this time, they targeted the front of the Army. Apparently, the Empress was trying to remove some of the Queen’s generals.

Well, that was a terrible idea.

_“With me,”_ the Queen commanded, and her generals formed up around her. The creatures bounced off her shield; and then she struck at them with fangs and with her sheer mass, knocking them away and slashing open their flesh. She was not affected by their dark poison, and thus she could be injured without consequence; but it seemed that none of them could break through her shining carapace.

Around her, Emhlys wheeled on Spire, stabbing downwards with his blade. She shielded as several different dark beasts flung themselves at him, ensuring that they bounced off and away. Myrrah did the same; the Queen protected them both.

Erika, behind her, stood up in their saddle and gathered flames in their hands, whirling to hurl bolts of fire down into the mass of dark beasts. The darklings on the outside – twisted humanoid forms lumbering with misshapen limbs and extra joints, pulling broken legs across the ground and dragging sticky, rusted weapons – shied away from the flames.

In and out. The wave of beasts retreated. The Queen took stock of her army.

More wounded, several dead. She felt the pain in her heart knowing that these people had died for her and she did not even know their names. They had sacrificed themselves for her army. If only she could have saved them, or if she could bring them back – but that was not the way of things, and she knew that they were gone.

Those that were wounded, Aulan and Tirron rounded up and sealed in a stone chamber they pulled out of the ground. With luck, none would turn before the Empress was dead, and if they did, the Lords would take care of it.

Forwards. Above, flocks of birds wheeled in the sky, but were driven out of the way by the wind from Skaldra’s wings. The Empress’ dark beasts were decimated to the left and right, crushed by Ville’s hooves or torn apart by Eska.

Ever forwards. The Queen held her barriers up whenever the attacks came; and they were more and more frequent. The Empress clearly hoped to drain her of her power by forcing her to use it on shielding her army. Apparently, she was not yet aware that the Queen could draw from the land, and was stronger than she had ever been before.

They traded blows. Every time the armies clashed, some of the Queen’s soldiers lay dead; but so did many of the Empress’ beasts and darklings, their forms either slumping dead to the soil or actually melting through the grasses into nothing.

The Queen felt that her army was losing hope. She used some of her power to draw light to herself and let it out; she gleamed like sunlight on the field, mirror patches dazzling the dark beasts that came at her. Emhlys, beside her, shed his own kind of light; she heard him laugh as he plunged his sword into the spine of a wolf and twisted it violently. There was a fierce, awful joy in his eyes.

Myrrah cantered up beside the Queen, panting, greatsword clutched in one hand. “We need to keep moving,” she gasped out, looking back to the army. “She’s holding us up.”

_“Agreed. We cannot lose time in these battles.”_ the Queen turned. _“We must rid ourselves of these beasts.”_

“Other than killing them, how?”

_“Let me see what I can do. Erika, shield me.”_

Erika backed their horse up and raised their hands, producing a bubble shield that enclosed them and the Queen entirely. Myrrah turned and urged her horse into a canter again, disappearing through the wall of the bubble; the Queen hoped Emhlys would be alright outside of it with no shields from her. He would probably be okay.

She focused on herself. The dark beasts fled from her light, or were attracted to it; but they were attracted because the Empress forced them to try and kill her. This she knew, because the Empress had done the same thing to Tirron. So naturally, without influence, they would flee.

Very well.

She touched Erika’s shield and gathered her own power, remembering the sun above, the brilliant light that had beaten down on her on her journey to Cloudfall. She reached up at cut a hole in the clouds – Skaldra had to skew to the side to avoid her strike – and brought the sunlight down.

It hit the shield, and her brilliant form, and radiated out like a beacon. She sent it flaring across the field; where it touched the dark beasts, they burst into flame, screaming as they turned and fled. The darklings cowered in fear and the Queen’s soldiers cut them down where they stood. She pushed it further, filling the valley with brilliance, all the way to the edges where the pine forest cradled the shadows in its depths. She heard Emhlys laughing outside, heard Myrrah’s triumphant shout, and held the light beaming out for as long as she could before the clouds closed and the radiance faded.

When she returned to herself, Erika was watching her, a look of awe in their dark eyes.

“The sun itself shines from you,” they murmured. “You are brighter than the southern coast…”

_“We must go.”_

Erika dropped their shield. The Queen was startled to see the many smoking bodies of dark beasts scattered across the field, and her army re-forming after the combat; she looked to the sea. Only a half mile or so left.

The sky stilled. The storm dissipated; Skaldra, above, was wheeling in circles, but the clouds were gone. The swifts flew to his left and right, streamlined bodies still crackling with energy.

The cliffs lay ahead. It was a simple slope downwards. The Queen could feel Ville off to the left, struggling, but still massive and there. Eska to the right was completely gone – she was there, but the Queen wanted nothing to do with her mind. She was far too dangerous, and gorging herself on their fallen foes at the moment.

The sea crashed ahead of them. The waters alternated dark and light; the Queen knew she had but to cross them and she would be able to trap the Empress in her lair and kill her there.

“We are so close,” Emhlys whispered. “Just there. How will you get across the water?”

_“I will walk.”_

He glanced over at her, one eyebrow raised. “Is that so?”

_“Yes.”_

They stepped onto the cliffs. The Spider Queen stood at the top, feeling the cold sea wind blow into her face; that was odd, as it should have been blowing out to sea. The Empress was forcing the weather to act unnaturally. The Queen stood in the face of it and rejected this alteration.

_“I am coming for her.”_

Far out to sea, a bird wheeled over the water. The sky around it darkened. The Queen took a step back.

What?

The bird turned, an albatross, and shot towards them. Behind it, the sky rippled and turned from a pale blue into a deep purple, clouds materializing out of nothing faster than they ever could have naturally – it looked as if the sky were moving in fast-forward, speeding through hours of time in a matter of seconds. The Queen looked up and saw Skaldra wheeling away from the water. He could not affect this storm – he was a creature of the mountain sky, not the sea.

The Blue Empress was not going to wait for them to come and find her. No, She was bringing the fight out to them. She was coming.

She was here.


	20. War of Titans

Silence.

The albatross grew nearer. She seemed to grow larger as She went, form shifting and changing as the sky darkened around Her and the waters began to roil and chop furiously. Waves swept out from where She flapped Her wings; a wingtip dipped in the water produced a swell that cracked against the cliffside with enough power to shake it.

No words needed to be spoken, here. The Spider Queen felt the Empress’ remaining forces, all of them, gathering to the north and south. She was going to throw everything She had at them in this final push.

She expected to win. She still did not know that She was weaker than She knew.

The Queen hoped that this was still true.

Facing Her down, now, was far worse than she had ever imagined. The sunlight went weak and watery again; the blue of the sky faded, and she could see stars through the lack of light, though their light too was faded and wavering. The Queen hunkered down and gathered herself.

Here She was.

The albatross pulled one long, slow circle in the sky, then folded Her wings and dropped like a stone. The water parted to welcome Her in and She vanished.

The sun went out.

Waves of dark beasts, the entire rest of the Empress’ forces, poured out from the forests. The Queen could feel that Eska was nowhere to be found, and Ville lay wounded to the north, trying to reach them but unable to move as he should have been. The darklings that ran with this army were massive, wielding clubs made from entire trees. The Queen shielded her army from the first wave, as she knew she had to, and kept the shield up this time – she needed them to live. She would not let them die.

The water churned below the cliffs, boiled, and burst – and through the waves came six, seven heads, a hydra of impossible proportions. The Empress screamed out and struck forwards, forcing the Queen to shield, and spat acid and water from Her other heads, bombarding the cliffs.

To her left, the Queen saw Myrrah’s horse rear, nearly throwing her off. Myrrah managed to barely keep hold of her mount and gallop to the right as a blast of superheated water hit the place where she had been, leaving a smoking crater in the ground.

Erika, to the left, caught a jet of water and flung it back, but it splashed off the Empress’ scales and served only to draw Her attention. She looked over with one massive head, gleaming teeth jutting from both upper and lower jaw, and snapped at the mage.

They barely avoided the bite, but were caught unawares by another strike from a second head and knocked backwards into the dirt. Their horse sped off and they barely managed to stand before a jet of water blasted into them.

The Spider Queen shielded them. The water splattered away; they stumbled backwards and managed to pull their own shield up, then knelt and drew what strength they could from the earth.

_“This is everything,”_ the Queen called, to her army._ “This is the end. Give everything that you have; fight for your lives!”_

Arrows whipped past from her archers into the ranks of dark beasts. They fell; to her sorrow, the Queen saw some of her own horses in there, screaming and biting at her soldiers as they charged. She whipped out a rope of golden light and cracked it into a bank of enemies, knocking them backwards, then turned her attention back to the Empress.

The Empress was decimating the cliffside force. The Queen was the only thing that was withstanding Her attacks.

One of the monstrous darklings, the beasts with the clubs, struck at Emhlys. He danced Spire out of the way, over towards the edge of the valley, and laughed as the darkling wrenched its club out of the ground.

At that moment, the Empress spat acid at the ground, and Emhlys was forced to back up. The darkling swung again; the Queen shielded Emhlys as the blow hit.

Her shield failed.

He glanced over as she tried to protect him; for a moment, their eyes met. He did not sense her protection; she was not helping him. Her power was not there for him. She had a fraction of a second to realize what had happened, and in that second, he realized it too.

One name for one success.

The splintered tree trunk hit Emhlys and knocked him out of the saddle, sending him flying into a nearby tree, where he cracked against the trunk and fell motionless to the ground.

_“EMHLYS!”_

Nothing. She could not feel his bright flame; it winked out like a candle in the wind. She screamed wordlessly, almost turning from the Empress, but the roaring of Her beastly form brought her back.

No. No. She could not turn from this battle. Rage boiled in her body; she faced the Empress and, as She reared back to strike again, shouted Her name.

Curling golden words scrolled through the air, whipping around the Empress’ heads, binding Her. Golden chains spun into being, securing Her to the rocks. She screamed and flailed backwards. The Queen did not let her go, dragging her towards the rocks to crack against her golden shield, and she deftly reached out and wrapped the binding around each of the Empress’ heads.

_“You will not rule this land,”_ the Queen snarled, pulling the Empress down to her level. _“You have reigned your last day, Empress, and with your name I bind you to your true form and doom you to death. You will never hurt anyone, ever again.”_

She breathed the Empress’ name again, those thirty-seven syllables of wind and cold, and the Empress screamed again and tried to pull away.

_“You have wounded me. You have killed thousands of creatures and people. You have hurt my brother. You are nothing but a bringer of pain. You have no power – fall, now.”_

A third time, and this time, the Empress could not resist. She fell forwards and collapsed into herself, shedding the form like a spare skin, falling through layers of shapes until she finally became nothing but a black cat, suspended in the sky.

She looked up, blue eyes wide, and knew Her fate.

The Queen killed Her.

She brought what remained of the Empress forwards and slammed the cat into the ground at her feet, then stepped forwards and ripped her spine out with her fangs.

As she did so, that eternal heaviness in her soul vanished. It was a strange feeling; she had never felt so light and free before. That deep ache was gone.

The storm stopped. The sun came back, blazing down on the cliffs, as the Queen dropped the Empress’ body limply to the ground. Light poured over the grasses; the sea began to calm immediately.

But no, there was no time to ponder her victory. The Queen turned and raced over, completely ignoring everyone else, to where Emhlys lay crumpled at the base of a tree.

His flame was gone. She reached out and gently touched his shoulder with her pedipalps, hoping to stir something.

_“Emhlys. Emhlys, please,”_ she whispered, crouching next to him

Nothing. His horse, who had also been knocked aside, staggered up and came over, whining softly as she nosed at his body.

Myrrah cantered up. “Queen, She is dead! The Empress is – “

She stopped short, seeing, the Queen hunched over Emhlys’ still form.

“Oh, no,” she whispered, face falling. “Oh, no, no, no…”

_“He is dead,”_ the Spider Queen whispered. _“Would that I could weep for you, brother, for you are the thing I loved more than all the world. I traded your life for my victory. I am the cause of your death.”_

Silence. Erika stumbled up and stood silently at the Queen’s side, unsure of how to console her.

The wind rippled as Skaldra swept down and landed beside her. “Queen,” he said, bowing his head. “I do not wish to interrupt. But there is an important matter…”

_“What is it.”_ She did not want to speak to anyone.

“The Empress,” he said, “was the ruler of Sylvach. She is dead now. Sylvach has no ruler. Someone must take up the mantle before the world begins to die. Surely you know this.”

She did. She turned painstakingly away from Emhlys and looked over to where the Empress lay in the grass. The world was warping around Her body, shifting and tearing; she could see where the world itself was beginning to fall apart.

Slowly, she stepped over to it, and felt finally what the Empress had been holding this whole time.

The united power of Sylvach. The connection to the magic that ran beneath the world, the great green sea of power that She had drawn from. The Queen was already one with this sea, but taking up this mantle would forever bind her to it, until she gave it up or died. If she took this, she would rule the Lords of the Land, she would rule the people, she would be forced to assume control over everything.

If she did not take it, everyone would be destroyed.

She reached out and took it.

Immediately she felt the fear the Empress must have felt when taking this – the power of the world seized her and drew her in, and she pressed herself to the ground, hoping not to be torn apart where she stood. But she was strong, and after a few seconds, the world accepted her.

She was the new Queen of Sylvach, and Sylvach was within her. She relinquished her power to it – and it took her abilities from her, devouring her magic, leaving her nothing. She wanted to keep it but could not. She had to let the world take it from her.

The Blue Empress had not allowed the world to take from her, and she had taken from it instead. The Spider Queen would not make that same mistake.

And then it let her go.

It released her. Her power was irreparably intertwined with that of the world, but if she wanted it, she could call on it. There was no danger here.

Incredible. If only the Empress had not been so afraid…

Was there anything else it needed from her? No. She felt the entirety of Sylvach spread beneath her paws, from here to the Leviathan’s storm to the southern shores to the ice of the north. It was all under her command.

If she could have traded it for Emhlys’ life, she would have. She would have given it up to save him. But he was gone.

She turned back to her army. _“We have won,”_ she said, wearily. _“Those that are wounded need healing. Those that are dead must be honored. We will return to the Wyrmwood.”_

“Queen, we – “ Myrrah, to her right.

_“I will take him.”_

She nodded.

The Queen turned around and stepped back over to where her brother lay dead in the grass. His expression was slightly frightened; she knew that he had realized in those moments of his life that her failing was the cause of his death. The hook of the Leviathan’s magic was gone from her as well – her pact was fulfilled. No, there was no mistaking this tragedy for an accident.

She would never be able to remedy that. She would never know what he had thought in that second, knowing she had failed him, knowing that he was the trade for her victory.

She wished she could cry.


	21. Enchantress

The Wyrmwood was free. Sylvach was free.

The Queen’s heart was heavy.

She had taken Emhlys’ broken body back to the forest, carrying him back as he had carried her away so long ago. What she would have done to return to the time when they both lived in the Golden Wood, safe from the Empress’ eyes and creatures, learning how to fight and basking in the sun under the golden trees.

She prepared to build a gateway. The fae had no purpose here now – they had only stayed to aid her, and they wanted to go home.

The fae gathered. They vacated the palace she had built for them and saddled their beautiful horses, taking everything that they had brought with them to this world in a procession of glittering glory.

Sedh rode at the head. The Queen had directed them to lay Emhlys’ body on a stretcher and lay it next to where she would put the portal.

_“I will open the gateway,”_ the Queen directed. Sedh, with Cael to his left, watched her carefully. _“To return him to your home realm. You must go, and you must take him with you.”_

To her surprise, Sedh stopped her. “No,” he said. “He would stay here.”

_“…what?”_

Sedh gestured to Emhlys’ body, sorrow mixed with defiance on his face. “He spoke of you, often. He told us, if he died – he’s told you this, too, don’t you remember? If he died, he would want to stay here with you, in your golden forest.”

_“But he belongs in his home realm. With all of you. With his people.”_

“As much as he loved our home, he loved you more.” Sedh had to stop and swipe his arm across his face. “As much as we loved him, he desired above all else never to be parted from his only sister.”

The Spider Queen did not know what to think. She didn’t want to argue; it would lessen her sorrow to keep him here, but… _“Are you certain?”_

“Yes.”

So she did not open the gate yet. Instead, she took the fae, and Emhlys, and found a small clearing near her lair. There she opened the ground and laid her brother to rest, and grew from his grave a new golden tree. This one’s silver bark shone as his sword had, and its leaves gleamed like crystal in the sun.

_“A monument,”_ the Queen murmured, as she coaxed the tree into being and watched it shoot upwards. _“To his sacrifice.”_

Then she sent the fae home.

Building the portal was easy. She wove it from gold and green, remembering how Círdnanh had torn a whole between the worlds. Faolarghn was quite close, and it was not hard. It sprang into being – a ripple in the world – and to her surprise she saw figures waiting on the other side.

The fae stepped forwards, ready to cross through. The Spider Queen reached out to go with them – just to say goodbye – but realized after a moment that, for some reason, she could not pass through. She could not leave Sylvach.

Of course she couldn’t. Sylvach was her. She couldn’t leave herself.

She was trapped in this realm forever.

Movement. The stream of riders halted before they could enter the gateway, for someone stepped through.

Círdnanh.

The Spider Queen nearly collapsed, seeing her mother. Círdnanh’s face was lined with sorrow; she was smiling, but her eyes held pain.

_“Mother, I’m sorry,”_ the Queen began, and could not bring herself to say more.

“I know what happened,” Círdnanh said, forestalling an explanation with one raised hand. “I felt it the moment he was gone. I felt him go.”

_“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”_

“It is not your fault – “

_“It is. I could have – I couldn’t – my shield, I was supposed to keep him safe, and I madfe a trade and I didn’t think of anyone but myself…“_

Círdnanh stepped closer and placed her hands on her daughter’s face. “My dear, my little weaver, if you had never made that trade, would you be here now? What of your people? And us? If you had not won that battle, none of this ever would have come to pass. You may have all died anyway. You know he did not regret it. You should not either.”

_How can I? How can I?_ She couldn’t speak out loud.

“It will take time. You will have to learn for yourself. I cannot help you there.” Círdnanh pressed her forehead to the Queen’s. “I know your pain, dear daughter, for he was my only son, and I loved him. I know you would give up everything to have him back. But we cannot. And we must move on.”

She didn’t want to. She didn’t _want_ to move on, didn’t _want_ to leave him behind. She couldn’t bear to forget him. _What if I don’t – what if I don’t remember him?_

“You always will. We will.”

_I built him a monument, but I don’t know if it’s enough._

The fae Queen arched an eyebrow. “A monument?” So there were some things she did not know.

_Yes. Come, and see. It was the very least I could do… He wanted to be here. He said so, and the scouts – Sedh agreed – _

“No, I know. He did.” Círdnanh glanced over to the fae. “Go home. I will follow you back.”

The fae began to file through the gateway. The Spider Queen her mother to Emhlys’ tree, and Círdnanh knelt before it and was silent for a long time.

“Long may your memory grace the gardens of this world, beloved son,” she murmured finally, tears glittering on her cheeks. She touched the tree trunk, then stood. “I will go home. Is the gateway a trouble?”

_No. Not at all._

“Then leave it open. Let the fae come and go. Your world is beautiful, and we would miss you terribly if it were closed for good. And…” she paused. “Not all of them are ready to let him go. Let them visit him. Let them remember him.”

_Of course. Always._

When the fae had left, the Spider Queen tied the gateway into Sylvach’s magic and let it go. It remained, hanging between two trees, with a walkway of silk leading to and from it.

The Lords of the Land had each departed on their own, returning to their territories. Ville and Eska had been wounded in the battle, and Tirron was still recovering from the Empress’ possession, but they were all well enough to travel – or, in Tirron’s case, to reconstruct her home. Under her watchful eyes the land returned to normal, no longer touched by the darkness from the east.

The people, too, were changed. Now that they were free, they traveled and learned, and knew of the Spider Queen. She went across part of the sea to the capital city where the Empress had held her lair for years and found it rejoicing in her demise. The countries of the world, unfamiliar to her with names and languages she did not understand, understood the turning over of Sylvach to a new ruler. She did not want to alter them. She let them be.

She had one last task to accomplish. When she had time, several weeks, she ventured northwards, past the mountains, through the northlands and ice, to the earthmotes and to Cloudfall. She had a promise to keep.

“You’re back,” the Caretaker said, when it found her waiting at the door in the wind. “I sense that your story has become mostly complete.”

_“I will tell you my tale, as I said I would.”_

“And I will record it for the ages.” It beckoned her inside, through the halls and to the recording chamber – to her absolute astonishment, she saw several humans inside, either hurrying furtively through the corridors or reading books in the great rooms, and once, balancing precariously atop a ladder, trying to pull a heavy tome off a high shelf.

_“There are people here,”_ the Queen whispered. _“Who are they? How did they get here?”_

“My existence was… suppressed, under the Empress’ reign,” the Caretaker said. “Now that people know the library is here, they are eager to find it and learn from it. They are welcome – everyone should have access to the knowledge of the world. All are welcome here.”

_“How do they get up here?”_

“They climbed. Just as you did.”

Incredible. The Queen was amazed at their dedication; she wondered if any of these people were from her armies. She wondered what their stories were.

The recording chamber was as she remembered it, small and warm and circular, and the Caretaker settled into its desk and prepared to write, pulling a quill and ink from underneath the counter.

“Begin,” it said, and she spoke.

She told it of her hatching days, when she was too small to think, of the dark Wyrmwood and the brilliant beam of light that had tempted her up into the canopy. She told it of her journey east, of her tangle with Tirron, of her rescue by Emhlys. It wrote as she spoke, of the Golden Wood, of Círdnanh and the fae, of her childhood and how she had grown to be strong and magical in that safe haven. She told it of Verilian and the bear, of the spies in the Wood, of her departure and the trees she had grown into her new forest. She spoke about Myrrah and her village, about Emhlys and the army that she started with his help, about the fae raids on the Empress and Her retaliation at the wall when she had shattered the fae magic with hardly a word. It listened as she described the departure of the fae, Círdnanh’s last lessons and words, Emhlys’ determination to stay, and her construction of a new palace for them in her Wyrmwood.

_“After that is when I came to Cloudfall,”_ she said, and paused. _“You already know what happened there.”_

“Yes, but I would like to know it from your point of view,” the Caretaker replied. “There’s always something to gain from seeing from another angle. Knowledge, if nothing else.”

So she related her experiences within Cloudfall, and then her journey into the depths of the storm and the waves on the western coast and her deal with the Leviathan, and how she had learned the Empress’ name despite her misgivings.

_“Her name, by the way,”_ the Queen said, _“was this.”_

She spoke the name, and even now with the Blue Empress dead it seemed to sear the air around it. The Caretaker moved back slightly, almost surprised.

“Hmm,” it said. “That’s not what I expected.”

_“That’s what I thought, when I first understood it.”_

It seemed to ponder how to scribe that collection of sounds, and settled for doing something to the paper that made the Queen’s eyes hurt to look at. She looked away.

“Continue.”

She recounted how she had woven her webs of light across the world and spread the news of her rebellion through the people, how she had gathered the mages and how the Empress had torn the land apart to stop them. She told of her battle with the Empress within Tirron’s mind, of the Council of the Land, of the approach to the cliffs and finally, of the battle with the Blue Empress and the death of her brother. She told of the journey home and her gateway for the fae, her conversation with her mother, her promise to keep the portal open.

_“That is where it ends,”_ she sighed, after her last words had dropped into stillness that lay like dust. _“I have no more to tell.”_

“Nothing between then and now?”

_“Nothing important. My story is complete, I think. I will rule, but whatever happens, nothing will be so important as what I have done here. I have one task now: to rule Sylvach.”_ She hunkered down again.

“You are filled with sadness,” the Caretaker observed.

_“Astute.”_

“Will your reign be filled with sadness, as well?”

The question caught her by surprise. _“I – what do you mean?”_

“The Empress was fearful. Her rule was filled with fear; she poisoned the land with it, fear and hatred and anger. What will you do to the land when you rule it? How will you affect this realm? What will you leave behind?”

_“I – “_ she paused. _“I do not want to bring sorrow to my people, that is – that is not why I did this – “_

“You are mourning,” the Caretaker said, “but should you fall into that sadness, you will take your realm with you. You are the realm now. You must be something you wish it to be.”

_“I cannot even have my own emotions now?”_

“That is not what I said,” the Caretaker said carefully, turning its head slightly to the side. “I said you must be careful.”

_“What would you have me do?”_

“Rule well.”

It was right. She couldn’t allow herself to be lost in grief; she had a realm to look after now, and she wanted it to flourish. If she drowned in sorrow, her rule would be as bad as the Empress’ had, or worse. She had to pull herself together.

She took it to heart. When she returned to the Wyrmwood, she set about busily repairing all parts of the forest that had been harmed by the Empress, healing the plants where she could, trying to remove the echoes of the Empress’ presence. Though the Blue Empress herself was gone, her legacy remained – the poison that had turned the dark beasts into what they were, that had altered people into darklings, still existed. She had to hunt down and cleanse – or kill – those that were still affected. But it was much easier now that the Empress was not there to fight back.

She kept the portal open, and the fae did come and go – beautiful, bright visitors to her golden wood. They did not interact with the people of her world often.

The people of the world seemed to accept her. She stayed within the Wyrmwood, mostly, but would venture out for holidays – the demise of the Empress became a holiday on its own, known as the Ascendancy. The Queen found that she did not seem to really age, now, nor was she truly affected by the passage of time. As the realm was forever, so was she.

She was the Spider Queen, the ruler of Sylvach and that which watched over it, kept it safe from harm, kept it in balance.

Her rule was bright and beautiful, as she was, for the darkness had been defeated. All that was good flourished in her land. All that was dark had its place; but too much, and she would end it.

She climbed the tree where she had first seen the sun, later. She climbed it and looked out upon the land as she had so long ago.

No dark tendrils swept across the land now. No swirls of shadow corrupted the trees; the clouds above were unhindered by unnatural storms, and the plains to the north were safe from roaming packs of dark beasts. The Wyrmwood was dark and dangerous, but it was naturally so – its darkness was the ordinary black of night, of caves, of shadow.

Perhaps another time would come when the land would be under a curse such as that she had lifted. Perhaps someday another great evil would rise to fight her, another evil that would rally the land itself against it. Perhaps someday she would fight an even greater force, something from a realm that was not her own.

Perhaps. But she could fight it; and she would triumph, here in her realm. She would keep this golden world safe. She would ensure that it was never harmed again; and if she said it, so it would be.

For she was Queen.


End file.
